


Blood and Bone and Arrows

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Just A Survivor [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Language, Angst, Cannon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Maybe some smutt, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, seriously heed the tags, some good things really, this is gonna get dark people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 63
Words: 115,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: You were walking along the highway out of Atlanta when you met a cowboy sheriff, his semi-crazy deputy, and a brash redneck. How were you supposed to know they'd save your life as much as you saved theirs? And who would have thought you'd fall in love with the redneck in the process?





	1. The Sheriff, the Deputy, and the Redneck

**Author's Note:**

> This starts as the group is heading for the CDC but there will be cannon divergence from there. What could have happened if you had met them on the road.

You were walking. You didn't know how long you'd been walking, just that you were. 

It was hot, and the pack, quiver, and bow on your back didn't help. But you were moving. You were walking. You were alive. 

The caravan took you by surprise, blowing by you in a sudden flurry of noise and movement that had you bringing the rifle in your hands up before you even thought. The blast of noise as the truck in the back honked once, sent you into a crouch, looking around wildly for somewhere, anywhere to hide on the empty highway.  
The caravan stopped, the lead car about a quarter mile up the road. You could see two figures step out of their cars, pause briefly to confer with each other, and start toward you at a jog. 

The sound of a door opening had you whipping back to the truck beside you, holding your gun steady even as your vision blurred. God, how long had it been since you ate? Or slept? Days, at least. 

"What the hell you doin' out here, woman?" a southern drawl called you back into the present. You blinked as your vision steadied and studied the dirty man in a flannel with the sleeves ripped off. He leaned against his truck casually, a crossbow in his hands but not pointed at you. He looked completely at ease, but you read wariness in his stance. 

'Who the fuck are you?" you croaked out of a parched throat. 

The redneck shrugged. "Nobody." 

"Hey, Daryl!" a new voice called, and you stood up from your crouch and shuffled backward so you could keep the redneck-- Daryl-- in your sight even as you tracked to the newcomers. 

"Who's your friend?" the shorter man drawled, and your skin prickled as he gave you a once over. 

"Ain't my friend," the redneck put in. "Looks near starved. Croaks like she ain't seen water in week, too." 

"Fuck you," you spat at him, and the redneck grinned at you appreciatively. 

"Mmm, temper," the dark haired one chimed in. 

'Fuck you, too!" you shot back at him with even more heat. 

"Ok, ok, people, settle down," the sheriff (a fucking sheriff? the world ended one night while you were asleep, but he's still got his damn sheriff's uniform?) said, his voice calming. "Hey," he focused on you, hand extended, empty. "My name's Rick Grimes, this is Shane Walsh. That's Daryl Dixon," he nodded at the redneck. "Are you alone? Do you have people?" 

Seriously? "Why?" you asked sharply, moving backward another step. Rick froze, and held out a hand to stop Shane's move forward. Shane's hand hovered over his gun, but you kept your focus on Rick. 

"Because," he said. "We've got a pretty big group here. Women and children. We're trying to get to the CDC. You can join us, if you want," he offered. Shane scoffed and rolled his eyes in the background. 

"For real, Rick?" he muttered. "We just met this damn woman on the road. You don't even know her name!" 

"YN," you croaked. 

"What?" Rick swung back to you from where he'd been having a stare down with Deputy Whatever. 

"My name," you said, and lowered your gun. "I'm alone. I had a group, before.... Before. I'd like in," you finished in a coughing fit. 

"Damn it, woman," the redneck growled from beside you, and the next thing you know he was shoving a bottle of water in your hands. "Drink it before you pass out."  
You gulped down the water while Rick and Shane confered on where you'd ride. 

"There's room with me," Shane said and you stiffened slightly, shooting a panicked look at Rick and then Daryl. Like hell were you getting in a car with that guy, not with him giving you that look again... 

"Naw, she can ride with me," Daryl put in. "Got room in the truck. Now let's go, we ain't got all day." He threw open the door of his truck and gestured impatiently at the road. 

"All right," Rick nodded at him as Shane scoffed again and started jogging back to the front of the line. "YN, I'd like to talk to you more, but Daryl's right. We've got to go." He nodded once to you and followed Shane back up the caravan. 

"Well, come on then, woman," Daryl called. "Get in or get left!" 

You shook yourself a little and headed for the other side of the truck, glancing at the motorcycle in the back. "Nice bike," you said, your voice sounding much closer to normal after the water. Slinging your pack and your bow onto the floorboard beside Daryl's crossbow, you settled into the cab and pulled the door closed. "Hey, what was your last name again?" you asked mildly when he only grunted in response. 

"Why?" he asked, shooting you a glance as the caravan started roll again. 

"I just like to know who I'm in a car with, that's all," you shrugged. 

"Dixon," he muttered. You nodded. 

"Dixon?" you said after a minute. "Anyone ever tell you you're kind of an asshole?" 

His laugh was sharp and sudden and real, and had you whipping your head around to look at him. He glanced over at you, blue eyes dancing and a smile tugging at his lips. "All the time," he replied. And then you were both laughing. 

****  
That night the group camped by the woods. The women had swarmed out of vehicles as you and Daryl pulled up, already setting up tents and starting a fire. And of course, shooting you glances as you just sat in the cab of the truck with Daryl. 

"Ya gettin' out or what?" he drawled as he flung open his door and hopped down before pulling a tent out of the back of the truck and setting it up. You grimaced at his back before taking a deep breath and stepping out of the cab yourself. 

Almost immediately one of the women broke out of their pack and came your way. You took a long look at her as she walked over to where Daryl had parked slightly away from the rest of them. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and her clothes were just as dirty as everone else, but weirdly... stylish. The off-the-shoulder top made no sense to you. Great, Apocalypse Barbie. Before you had done more than shoulder your bow, she was on you, introducing herself, asking questions, and dragging you back to the group with single-minded determination as you cast a desperate look around for Daryl. At least the redneck was a familiar face, even if you had just met. 

No luck-- there he was, pitching his tent with his blue eyes laughing at your distress. Damn it.

You were pulled into the group, asked question after question which you barely had time to form an answer to before you were introduced to someone else. After what felt like an eternity, Rick and the other one, the deputy, showed up from a patrol and started issuing orders. Thankful, you pulled back from the fire a little and started observing all these people. 

Lori was Rick's wife, but it was obvious something was going on with the partner, too. Damn, best friend had been making moves on the wife, probably while he thought the sheriff was dead. Dixon had filled you in a little on the outline of the group, and after the sudden innundation of names and info from the group itself you began putting things together. Carl, the cute little guy who watched everyone warily, was Rick and Lori's. Carol and Sofia were quiet and reserved, but looking at Carol you could see a steel core hidden under there. You'd been like that yourself at one time, skittish and wary and believing you were useless. Hopefully she'd find the steel too, before it was too late. 

The old man, Dale, owned the RV and was a sweetheart. Dale also kept an eye on Apocalypse Barbie-- Andrea-- and Glenn, the Asian kid who was fast on his feet. You liked him immediately, as you had Dale. He'd simply nodded to you and stayed out of the way. T-Dog had been out with Rick and Shane, but he seemed nice enough too, and Jaqui was sweet but quiet. 

Andrea was going to be trouble. As soon as Rick and Shane came back, she'd been cozying up to the both of them, and before she'd been sniping (subtly, at least she thought) with Lori. Lori was obviously queen bee around camp, since she was Rick's wife and had the thing with Shane, but Andrea-- Andrea thought she should be head bitch in charge. And no, you hadn't missed the way she was trying to prove to you that she was better than you. 

Daryl came over and dropped a can of beans in your lap. You jumped but took it, nodding your thanks to him as he flopped to the ground beside you. You glanced at his empty hands as you grabbed your knife to open the can, then heard the redneck's amused snort as he waved a can opener in your direction. You grabbed it with a grunt and an eye roll but felt a grin tug your lips. Then you sighed again as you saw Andrea notice Daryl and break off from where she'd been trying-- unsucessfully, ha!-- to flirt with Shane. She headed your way and you tried not to let your irritation show, instead taking a bite of the beans with the fork Daryl had dropped into the can at some point. You held it out to him, holding it steady until he huffed and took it from you, your eyes on Andrea as she picked her way around the fire. You saw her small frown as Daryl took a bite and handed the can back to you without a word. Like hell were you going to take his food and let him go without. You'd barely been here long, but you could already see the way most people didn't notice the things he did for this group. He had pitched his tent, then two others, then sat on top of the RV keeping watch until the other three men had gotten back to camp and he'd climbed down and thrown beans at you. 

"Hey Daryl, YN," Andrea said with a fake smile, sitting down at your side. You forked up another bite and nodded, passing the can back while you chewed. Daryl grunted at her and then the can was in your hand again. You couldn't help but smirk a bit at the way Andrea looked more and more annoyed every time you passed the can back and forth. Bitches are the same even after the world ends, apparently. 

"So I noticed you didn't set up a tent. Do you have one?" she asked casually, and you tensed a little. 

"Nah," you said quietly. "Lost track of it on the road somewhere," you added after a brief hesitation. If you were going to be with these people, you might as well start to open up. You didn't want to be in charge, but like hell were you going to be pushed into the background. You hadn't survived this long without skill, but you had a feeling you wouldn't get a chance to show it unless you did some talking first. 

"I thought so!" Barbie replied brightly, and you felt your teeth grind together. "You can sleep in the RV with me and Dale and Glenn. There's still a little room; we'd be glad to have you!" 

You looked at the RV with wild eyes, your head whipping back to look at her and forkful of beans pausing halfway to your mouth. No way on this earth were you sleeping in that tin can with Viper Barbie, but how in the hell were you going to get out of this gracefully? You opened your mouth to reply--

"Naw, she can crash in my tent," Daryl drawled, taking the can and the fork from your hand after you hastily stuffed the forkful in your mouth, smiling around it at Andrea's bitchy frown. Her eyes flicked from you to him and you could see her trying to figure out what was happening. You could almost see the moment she labeled you a slut and her lip lifted in a slight sneer.

"I'm on first watch anyway," Daryl continued, standing up and lobbing the empty can as far as he could into the woods. "Tent'll be empty; might as well get used. Come on, YN," he finished, heading toward his truck, and something told you he had reached the same conclusion about Andrea's assumptions, or he wouldn't have said all that. Daryl didn't use two words when one would do, and half the time he'd just grunt at you anyway.

You rose too, dusting your hands off on your pants.

"Thanks, Andrea," you offered with a smile about as real as hers. "I guess I'm crashing with Daryl. I appreciate the offer, but I'm used to sleeping outside anyway. I'll see you all in the morning. Goodnight, everyone," you added to the rest of the group around the campfire. Rick nodded to you, the others murmured goodnights, and Shane just stared at you with that look in his eyes that made you itch to grab your knife. 

Andrea muttered something that was supposed to be friendly, and you turned and walked back Daryl's truck. He was leaning against the far side when you got there and let out a huge breath you didn't even know you'd been holding. He chuckled a little and you shot up your middle finger at him as you sagged against the truck beside him. 

"Thanks for the save, Dixon," you said after a minute, head tilted back just staring up at the stars. "Not that I'm ungrateful, but... You barely know me. I get the feeling you don't like people all that much, so why the hell are you letting me sleep with you?" You rolled your head over to look at him and he jerked his gaze to the woods as soon as you made eye contact. You thought you saw a blush spread along his cheeks and knew he'd been staring. He shrugged, glacing back at you for a minute. 

"Gonna be on watch all night. Might as well get used. And I saw you about crawl out of your skin when Andrea offered the RV." He spoke to the ground, shuffling his feet a little. "Figured anybody walkin' the streets without a tent doesn't like bein' couped up in tight quarters, anyway." 

You laughed a little. "You ain't wrong, Dixon. I didn't like feeling trapped even before the dead started eating people. Didn't like people much either," you mumbled to yourself and heard Daryl snort again. 

"You been in the truck with me all day, I already figured that one out. Talk about as much as I do," he said, and you felt a smile teasing your lips. "And everythin' you do say is a sarcastic comment." 

You laughed at that. He wasn't wrong. "Alright, Dixon, if you're sure-- wait." You frowned, turning to face him, still leaning against the truck. "What do you mean, you'll be on watch all night? I swear I just heard the cowboy-- Rick--" you corrected quickly but you heard the short huff of laughter, "set up a watch rotation..." And weren't you annoyed that you weren't on it, even if you did understand. Andrea had been annoyed too, but it was just the menfolk. You didn't blame Rick, not for the way his eyes had lingered on you for a minute as he assigned shifts. You'd have done the same. Hell, you had done the same. 

"Yeah, but Imma keep watch anyway. Need the security." 

You stared at him, reading his worries in his face, and heard what he wasn't saying. Loosing his brother-- even if he wasn't dead-- was weighing on him. And he didn't trust everyone at camp. Not your problem, even if you wanted to reach out and hug him for some reason, but it proved what you had already observed-- the damn group didn't even know what they had with him. It pissed you off and made you want to yell at the others, but you knew better. So you cracked a joke instead. 

"Well, ya better get some sleep at some point, or I'm drivin' the damn truck tomorrow." Your accent, one you had long tried to bury, was getting worse the longer you spent in his company. 

"Yeah? How you come to that conclusion?" he asked, amusement evident in his drawl. 

"I ain't trusting my pretty ass to you drivin' on no sleep!" you shot out and he snorted again, turning to look at you with a faint smile. 

"It is a nice ass," he said with a wicked grin, and this time you blushed. "Course, you could always ride with Andrea. Or Shane," he added, and jerked his head toward the fire, a teasing note to his voice. 

You shuddered. "No way in hell I'm getting in a vehicle with Apocalypse Barbie or Deputy Assface," you said before your brain caught up with your mouth. You winced, knowing he was already a member of the group and they were his friends, but then his head went back and that laugh from the truck, all open and raw and real, rang out again and you found yourself grinning at the sound. 

"Daryl?" Rick's voice came uncertainly, and you looked back at the campfire to see them all looking in your direction, Rick half-standing and Shane at his side, hand on his gun. And you realized, as Daryl called something back, that none of them had ever heard him laugh like that. You caught the stiff set of Andrea's shoulders as she deliberately didn't turn from the fire as you looked back at Daryl. The guarded look was back on his face as he turned back from calling reassurances to them, but he touched your shoulder for a second as he headed toward the RV for his watch. 

You didn't watch him go, but it was a near thing. Instead you bent forward and flowed into some yoga to stretch out your muscles and relax your mind as much as you could before turning to the small tent Daryl had set up. Suddenly you realized he had done it with you in mind all along, knowing he wasn't planning on doing any sleeping that night. You were absurdly touched, and turned to the RV to see him standing, turning slow circles against the sky. Then you ducked into the tent and stretched out fully clothed and with your knife at your hip, laying your bow in easy reach and leaving enough space for him to come in if he chose, and dropped off to sleep almost instantly. 

 

You didn't know how many hours later it was when you heard the softest movement outside the tent and came awake instantly, hand creeping for your bow. You went for the knife at your hip instead as you heard the tent unzip, lifting up slightly as a figure appeared. 

"Don't knife me, woman; it's cold and I'm tired." His voice was a hoarse whisper and you flopped back down. 

"Damn it, Dixon," you muttered, scooting over as far as you could to make room for him to crawl into the tiny tent. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on a girl like that?" 

"Hell, you're in my tent," he grunted, and you felt him curl up on his side, facing you. "Thought you told me to sleep, so I wouldn't call it sneakin'" 

"Fair enough," you whispered back, eyes already closed again. "G'night, Dixon." 

"Night, YN." 

 

The nightmare struck you hard and fast, all undead moans mixing with the sound of his voice, telling you how ugly and unlovable you were even as his hands moved over you roughly, leaving bruises that went deeper than skin. You were trapped, pinned, and all you could think was how the hell did he find you now, even after the world ended?

"YN," he whispered, his voice a caress and you flinched, feeling him move inside you and forcing down the need to scream and throw up. 

"YN." 

His voice had changed, becoming rougher. Your name never sounded like that coming from his lips; never that urgent and concerned. 

"YN!" 

You snapped awake, sitting up with your knife in your hand before you knew you had drawn it. Predawn light filtered into the tent palely, and you looked around wildly, your eyes finally landing on Daryl, who leaned on one arm, studying you cautiously. You just stared at him for a minute, chest heaving, as the panic started to fade. 

"Ya'ight?" he whispered, and you nodded, once, before fumbling your knife back into it's sheath and laying down, rolling away from his concerned eyes so he wouldn't see your tears.

 

Later that morning, everyone broke camp, the chatter soft and subdued. You broke down the tent for Daryl while he confered with Rick and Shane, everyone left you (blessedly) alone. Even Barbie kept her distance; and it wasn't like it was long before everyone was in their cars and back on the road. Daryl didn't say anything about the nightmare, just passed you a water bottle and made a snarky comment about the fool's errand quest the group was on and lack of brain cells and gasoline before lapsing into silence.


	2. Disease and Drunks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted rape/ noncon warning for this chapter

Everyone was laughing. Everyone was drunk, and happy, and full for the first time since you had joined them two weeks before. You stayed a little apart from it all, overwhelmed still by the number of people and the close quarters. 

"Been on the road awhile, huh?" Rick asked softly from your shoulder. You didn't jump, and you were damn proud of it. "You got the look," he continued when you glanced at him. "Too many people, too fast. Too close. Don't like walls, not sure if you're accepted. Don't worry. We get it. We're glad to have another fighter." 

"How do you know I'm a fighter?" you ask, eyes roaming the crowd, landing on Daryl, his head thrown back in a drunken laugh much harsher than the open sound you had drawn from him a few times over the weeks. 

"Because you were alone, with a gun, a knife, and a bow. And you were alive. And," Rick added as he stood up from leaning agaisnt the wall, "because you can't stop keeping watch. Get some sleep, YN. We're safe here." 

He had spoken to you a few times, but everyone had been concerned with walkers, camps, food, and gas so you hadn't interacted much. After the first time you had walked into the woods and walked back out with two rabbits and a squirrel, which you cooked and handed to the kids first and then split with the rest of the group, Rick had given you the nod. Then when you stood up from the fire the next night, lifted your bow, and dropped the walker who had somehow snuck past Dale on watch, Rick had started putting you on the watch list. It certainly hadn't endeared you to Andrea, but you seemed to have earned everyone else's respect. Lori had even asked you to keep an eye on Carl once while she and Rick had a chat (argument) in the woods. You spent your days in the truck with Daryl, talking some but mostly silent, and your nights between watch rotations laying in the little tent beside him. 

You'd struck up a few tentative friendships, like with Carol and Glenn, but mostly you stayed a little apart. 

But he was right-- you couldn't relax. You thought the doctor was squirrelly and you hated being drunk, and being around drunk people made you tense. So as Rick walked away, you stood up, put down your mostly untouched wine, and slipped from the room. 

 

You stood beneath the hot water of the shower, watching the months of grime flowing down the drain. Being clean was a miracle, even more than this group had been. You shut the water off with a sigh, mindful of how many others wanted hot water as well. You wrapped the towel-- towels, Jesus!!-- around yourself and grabbed the pile of dirty clothes you'd kicked into the side of the shower before throwing your other, slightly less dirty jeans and shirt on and heading toward the door when it burst open. This time you did jump, as Shane stalked into the bathroom, scratches on his neck and breathing hard. 

"Well, well, well," he muttered when he saw you, and your chest tightened at the darkness that filled his eyes. Drunk as a skunk, your dad used to say, and just as mean. 

"Hey Shane," you said softly. Managing mean, aggressive drunks required the soft voice, non-confrontational looks, and deft manipulation. Your heart was pounding and you could feel the same edge of panic from your nightmares creeping up, but you pushed it down and under as you studied his face without meeting his eyes too long. The vein in his neck throbbed as you continued, "I was just heading out. It's all yours." You tried to brush past him and get to the door, but his arm went up and blocked your path. He shifted so you were against the wall, leaning down into your space. Trapping you. 

"Nah," he said softly. "I don't think so." 

"Shane..." you said cautiously as he reached out and ran a hand down your neck, lifting a water droplet. That was too much, and you changed tactics, making your voice firmer. "You're drunk, so I'll just forget about this. Just... Let me out of here. Please, don't do anything stupid." 

He smiled and shook his head. "Why is every damn woman in the world saying that to me tonight? I'm not stupid. I saw the way you looked at me on the road. Me, Rick, Daryl, all three of us. Like you were.... decidin' who to cozy up to. Guess you chose the redneck, huh? That's a mistake. Trust me. I'll be a lot better for you than him..." He hooked his fingers in your shirt and tugged, and you did the only thing you could think to do. 

You slammed your forehead into his nose. 

You were too close to do any real damage; in fact it probably wouldn't even bleed. But he jerked back with a yell, giving you a second to duck under his arm and run out into the halls, toward your room. You slammed right into Daryl a few feet down. 

"The fuck, woman, slow down," he drawled lazily, setting you on your feet. Then he took an actual look at you, focusing on your face. You could only imagine what your eyes looked like, pupils probably blown and glassy with the panic that pushed at the edge of your vision, but you could hear the way your breath came in short rapid gasps. "Hey," he said, his voice softer. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you muttered, jumping as Shane burst out of the bathroom door. Shane paused in the hallway. Daryl's eyes flicked from you to Shane and back again, and something wild and deadly moved across the archer's face for a split second. 

You met Shane's eyes for a moment as he sneered, then walked down the corridor in the opposite direction, muttering under his breath. 

"You sure?" Daryl asked and his voice was steel now, watching Shane go. He guessed, but he wasn't pushing, and you felt your heart rate starting to drop back down as you pulled in slower, deeper breaths. 

"Yeah," you said. "Yeah, I just... Can I sleep in your room tonight, Daryl?" Your face was red and you looked down and away his searching gaze. You might have shared his tent for weeks, but here there was plenty of space and zero necessity, and you were afraid he would turn you down and pull away from you. You'd become way too used to his presence. Hell, he was the closest thing you had to a friend.

"Whatever," he shrugged after a beat, turning down the hallway. You went with him, awkwardly moving into his room together. "You can take the bed," he gestured as you both toed off your boots. "I'll take the floor." 

Damn hero complex. He suspected, but he wouldn't push, and now he was being all gentlemanly. 

"Seriously, Dixon?" you said, looking up at him with a smile. "You think I'm gonna kick you out of your bed?" 

"What the hell are you suggestin', woman?" he growled, and you grinned as you watched the tips of his ears blush. 

"Not that, asshole," you laughed. "Just that there's plenty of room. Hell, there's more room on the cot than in that tent." 

He snorted as you crawled into the bed and pressed back against the wall, then tossed a blanket at you before laying down on his back beside you. You curled on your side and pillowed your face on one hand, studying his profile. 

"You stare a lot, woman," he said, his eyes still closed, and you snorted. 

"Yeah, sorry. You just don't talk much, so I have to learn all I can from your face."

"What the hell you think your gonna to learn? You ain't left me alone in two weeks since I picked your ass off the side of the road," he muttered, but finally turned toward you, mirroring your posture. 

You grinned. "You ain't asked me to leave you alone yet, Dixon. Face it, you liked me right away and you know it." 

"Yeah, I did. Or I just liked that bow a' yours," he shot back. 

"Naw," you said easily, comfortable with the mild flirtation that had colored so many of your interactions. "It's more likely it's my ass." You grinned wickedly at him as his cheeks flamed red. 

"But really," you added, sobering a little. "Why are you so nice to me? I've slept in your tent every night since you picked me up, you've shared food with me, taken me with you hunting. You don't know me from Eve, but you act like you've known me all your life. Hell, I'm in your bed now. There's plenty of room here, you could have told me to go sleep in my own..." you trailed off, picking absently at your sleeve. 

"Maybe I just like how you smell," he muttered, eyes flicking from yours to the blanket and back. You snorted. 

"Gonna have to try harder than that, Dixon; until tonight I hadn't had a shower in months!" Your eyes darkened as you remembered what had happened that night. 

"Yeah," he said. "There is that." He shifted uncomfortably and reached out to toy with a strand of your hair for a minute before realizing what he was doing and letting go. "I don't know. You got attitude. I liked it. Then I got used to ya. Haven't had anyone to talk to since Merle. And you don't judge me like they do." 

You smiled, feeling the familiar flash of frustration at the way his group treated him. "I ain't judging you for anything, Dixon. Except maybe the layer of dirt you somehow still have. Did you even shower?" 

He grunted in response and you laughed, rolling over to face the wall. "Night, Dixon," you whispered. 

You felt him hesitate, then his arm snaked around you, slowly, like a question. "Night, woman," he whispered into your hair, as you stiffened beneath his arm. He held still, arm stiff as well, until you relaxed in a rush, leaning back against him. He tightened his grip a little and you felt him sigh. 

 

You woke up still curled under his arm and froze again. Two weeks on the road and he had never reached out to you like that, aside from waking you from a nightmare with a shake of your shoulder and a whispered "Ya'ight?" God, how drunk had he been last night, to cuddle up with you like this? You were torn between slipping out of bed to keep the embarrassment down, and the stronger pull to simply... stay put. It was nice. You hadn't woken up in someone's arms, feeling safe, in more years than you wanted to think about.

Before you had the chance to make a decision, you felt the air cut off. Daryl woke up instantly, both of you jerking upright. 

"What the hell?" he muttered, throwing you a look. Without a word, you both swung to your feet and headed to the door.


	3. How the Hell Are We Not Dead?

Running, screaming, the grenade. Daryl pushing you down behind the truck and covering you with his own body even as you called him an idiot. "I'm not breakable, Dixon!" you yelled. 

"Just shut up, woman!" he snapped, and then the building blew. 

*****  
Back to travelling. Day bled into night, and the caravan called a halt. Dinner around the fire was quiet. Andrea was pissed at Dale; Shane was pissed at everyone; Lori was acting sketchy (--er. Sketchier, she was already sketchy as fuck before.). You were avoiding Shane like the plague, and except for a sneer when you jumped into Daryl's truck outside the CDC, he just left you alone. Basically, everyone was avoiding everyone and everyone was sad about Jaqui, and the loss of the hope the CDC had offered. 

Daryl nudged your shoulder and jerked his head back toward the tent you'd set. "Go get some sleep, woman. You're dead on your feet," he muttered just low enough for you to hear. 

"Mmm," you said, and it wasn't really an agreement. "Rick hasn't given out watch assignments yet." But he was right, your eyes were heavy and all you wanted was to fall asleep right there with your head on Daryl's shoulder.... 

Wait, what? You sat up straighter, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. Daryl snorted beside you. 

"Y'aint taking watch tonight, woman. Go to bed," he insisted, louder, and Rick turned his attention from staring into the fire to the two of you. 

"Daryl's right," he said, giving you an assessing look. "You've been on watch every night except last. We'll handle it. Shane, you take first watch," he continued to the group and you went a little stiff. No way were you sleeping with Deputy Rapist on watch alone. "Glenn, you'll take second, and I'll take last. I know we're tired, people, and I know we're hurting. But try and get some rest. We'll regroup in the morning." 

Daryl grunted and stood, reaching down a hand to haul you to your feet. You groaned as he pulled you up and Lori smiled at you in sympathy. You smiled back, tentatively, as Daryl moved his hand to your elbow and hustled you along. 

"Damn it, Dixon, what's your damage?" you muttered to him as he pushed you toward the tent. 

He grunted at you absently. "You were about asleep on my shoulder, woman. Just don't wanna have to carry you." 

"Fine!" you snapped. "But I'm not going to sleep if Officer Asshat is on watch alone, Daryl." Your voice was low, but you looked him dead in the eyes. He nodded, once, and pointed at the tent. 

"I ain't sleepin' right now, anyway. Don't trust him neither," he muttered and walked away.

You watched him head to the truck and hop onto the hood, one leg swinging as he lit a cigarette. "Goodnight, Dixon," you said quietly, slipping into the tent. 

 

You woke up in a cold sweat, like always, with your chest tight and your lungs burning. Daryl's hand was still on your shoulder from where he'd shaken you awake, and you didn't even know when he'd come in. You really had been tired. 

You scrubbed your eyes with one hand and focused on drawing in one ragged breath and then another before laying back down, facing the wall. Like always. 

But Daryl didn't. You could feel it, the way he hesitated, and then his arm came around you, even more cautiously than it had in the CDC the night before. What the hell? 

"You drunk again and I don't know it, Dixon?" you whispered, sniffing past the tears. 

He stiffened, starting to with drawl his arm, but you stopped him by closing the little bit of space between you and leaning back into him. "Didn't say stop, just asked if you were drunk again," you added, turning slightly to look over your shoulder. 

You felt his shrug. "Nah," he whispered against your hair. "Just... Feels like the thing to do when someone has nightmares every night you've known 'em. Except one," he added after a pause, and you knew it was true. Every night he woke you up at least once, except the night you'd slept in his arms, but you were grateful he didn't say more than that.

"Thanks, Dixon," you whispered, touched, and he hummed an acknowledgement against your neck. You felt your eyes close as you snuggled into him a little, and his arm tightened around you. 

"Go to sleep, YN." 

*****

Sofia was missing, Carl was shot, half the group was at the farm, and Daryl was determined to kill himself finding the little girl. 

"Damn it, Dixon! Just fucking rest!" you muttered at him as he climbed out of the RV. He looked up at you where you were perched to keep watch, and grunted. 

"I'm just gonna take a look around. Shine a light in the woods, give her somethin' to look at. Can't sleep in a cage." He muttered. 

"Then come up here--" 

You were cut off by Andrea slipping out of the RV. 

"If you're going out, I'll come along," she offered, and you rolled your eyes in the darkness. Ever since the CDC, she had started being even more of a bitch. You had been on the road again for about five days, heading to Fort Benning, but she was pissed at everyone for not letting her just die. 

Personally, you hadn't given a shit either way, but you had become more and more of a target as Rick, Daryl, and even Shane the Pain had started leaning on you heavily for security and food. Andrea was pissy because no one trusted her to actually keep watch or wander on her own, and the way Daryl kept a possessive eye on you didn't help. Plus, Dale had hidden her gun and Shane had backed him up, and your gun was resting in your hands right then. 

Daryl barely glanced at her as he grunted. "Come on, then." 

"Stay close, ok, Dixon? Don't be a dumbass," you called after them, and Andrea glared up at you even as Daryl casually flicked you off. 

You'd been sharing the tent at night still, curled around each other, and you knew Andrea had noticed, since her bitchy quotient had risen. She was still flirting her head off with him and Shane, and griping at Lori still too. Lori had snapped at her in the woods the day before, defending Rick's actions to the ones who doubted, and you and Daryl had simply stood silent and watching. 

And now she was wandering off to no doubt make another move. You could have saved her the time and told her that while it wasn't like that between the two of you, Daryl had zero interest in her either, but hell-- it was more fun to watch her make a fool out of herself. 

You settled back into position, keeping an eye on the road and one on the woods where they walked off, Daryl shining the light back and forth.

 

They weren't back before Dale shuffled out to replace you on watch, and you tried not to think anything of that. Daryl had taken Sofia's absence personally, somehow, and you knew he would stay out there all night if he thought it would help. You sighed and crawled up into the bed of his truck, where you tossed a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows and blankets from the RV. No way were you sleeping on the ground after that herd that had come through, and you knew you weren't going to sleep in the warm RV either. 

Sometime later, you heard his amused chuckle. "The hell you doin', woman?" he asked, and you looked up to see him and Andrea standing over you. 

You shrugged. "RV's hot. This isn't." 

Andrea sneered. "If you're happy. More room for the rest of us, right Daryl?" 

Daryl glanced at her, then down at you. "Got room, woman?" he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

"Anything for you, Dixon," you grinned, scooting over and tossing back the edge of the blankets. You looked at Apocalypse Barbie, still standing there watching, as Daryl hopped into the bed of the truck beside you, and decided to tease her a little.   
"You want up here too or somethin'?" you couldn't help asking. 

"No... I'm good," she said, bitchface firmly in place. "Goodnight, Daryl," she headed to the RV, pausing in the doorway just in time to see Daryl pull you down, head against his chest.


	4. Everyone's Acting Insane, But Why Is That Your Problem?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mentions of past abuse, some yelling, general shenanigans

The farm was idyllic in every sense of the word, and you didn't believe it for a minute. Something was wrong. 

But Hershel had saved Carl, and was letting you use the farm as a base while the group searched for Sofia, and had lost a man in the process. (And weren't you curious how that had happened, because there was no way the man had stayed back to cover Shane when Shane had come back with the man's gun. Rick might have been an idiot, but you weren't and neither was Daryl.)

You and Daryl were set up away from the others. Hershel had asked that no one have guns on his property, and Rick had agreed, except for one lookout on the RV. You and Daryl were the only ones with long-range weapons besides the lookout, and frankly, you were concerned. 

Daryl was out looking for Sofia, again, alone. You had asked if he wanted company, but he had refused. 

"Damn it, Dixon, stop trying to kill yourself! You can't save her if you die!" you had snapped. 

"Don't tell me what to do, woman!" he had shouted back, and you had backed up a pace without meaning to. He started to reach for you, then threw his hands up and walked off, shouting back, "I'm the only one who seems to give a shit about findin' her! Stay here, watch their asses. God knows I don't wanna have to find anyone else!" 

You had let him go, breathing deeply to keep the panic attack from closing off your lungs. Being yelled at didn't usually phase you, but Daryl-- Daryl had never done that before. It had felt a little too much like when your boyfriend had, back before the world up and ended on you. 

"Whatever, Dixon," you muttered to his retreating back and turned toward the camp, only to see Carol watching from a few steps back. 

"He's a good man, YN," Carol said softly. "He'll come around." 

You shrugged. "I know he is. But there's nothin' for him to come around to. We're friends, and hell, barely that. I've only known you guys for a few weeks." 

Carol gave you a knowing look. "You are friends, dear. The best friend he has, that's for sure." 

You shifted uncomfortably away from her. "I'm gonna go see if I can help anyone with anything. Maybe take over for Glenn as lookout so he can go flirt with the farmer's daughter some more." 

Carol laughed and fell into step beside you, allowing the subject to be changed gracefully. "They are rather adorable, aren't they? So sweet and pure, even at the end of the world."

At the foot of the RV you touched Carol's arm. "He'll find her, you know," you said quietly. 

She nodded and walked away, and you glanced at the woods again. 

"Or die trying," you muttered, and headed to the ladder. 

****

When Dale and T-Dog found the walker in the well, you sighed. Glenn and Maggie were on a run to the pharmacy (and yes, Lori, you had noticed her handing him another piece of paper besides the official list the group had made for him, and you would be figuring that one out too), so you volunteered to go in to get it out. Shane taking charge of the ropes didn't make you happy, but you could hardly object when everyone was lending a hand. 

Not that it mattered anyway. You barely made it out, and the well got walker guts all over it. You sighed in disgust. 

"Y'all have fun with that. I'll be on watch," you muttered, heading for the RV again. 

 

Rick joined you a little bit later. "I need to talk to you," he said quietly. "If we get someone else up here can we take a walk?" 

You shrugged. "Whatever," you muttered, eyes on the woods. Jesus, YN, you were getting about as surly as Daryl. 

Rick snorted at you. "You've been spending too much time with Daryl," he said with a grin. "Got his tone down pat." 

You jerked your head up to glare at him, but he just patted your arm as he headed to the ladder. 

After a minute, Carol climbed up. "Rick sent me. He wants to talk to you," she said with a smile. Her eyes were red rimmed, and you couldn't resist giving her a quick hug. 

"He'll find her, Carol." 

"I know," she nodded, taking your place in the chair. 

 

You found Rick standing in a field, staring at Shane and Andrea's retreating backs. 

"Again?" you muttered, not knowing he could hear you. 

"Again," he agreed, and you jumped. 

"Sorry," you said, coming over to his shoulder. "What's up, boss?" 

"I ain't your boss," he said with a scowl. "And don't be sorry. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Come on, let's walk." 

You shrugged, bringing your bow around into your arms, just to be ready. 

You and Rick wandered the fence line in silence for a bit before the sheriff started to speak. 

"Hershel wants us to leave when Carl's better and Sofia's found," he said, stopping and leaning against the fence. "And Shane... And Lori... and I just..." he trailed off, shaking his head. 

"You need advice," you said quietly, coming to his side and staring into the woods with him. 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. 

"So.... why are you askin' me? Thought I was spendin' too much time with Dixon." 

Rick turned to look at you. "You-- You see everything. I've watched you. Hell, you probably know what's goin' on with everyone better than I do. Don't think I can't see it, 'cause I do." 

You snorted bitterly. "Fine. Yes, I see a lot of things. Like Glenn and Maggie, and Shane and Andrea, and the way Dale is about two seconds from losing it on all of us. Like the bruises that may have healed on Carol's arms, but not in her mind. The way she's already given up hope. The way Daryl's determined to kill himself to find Sofia. How Hershel hates having us here, but can't turn away a little boy in need. Whatever happened to Otis, cause somethin' did, Rick, don't deny it. And the way something's wrong with this place and I can't put a finger on what, but I will. What part of this fucked up situation did you want to talk about?" 

"Hershel," he said, blinking at your annoyed outburst, and you nodded. 

"I can take Hershel off your shoulders, Rick," you offered seriously. He looked a question at you and you shrugged. "No, I don't know how, but I'll handle it. Give me some time."

He hesitated, but nodded. 

"Good. What else, Rick?" you asked gently. "There's a lot on your mind; I can see it. Let me help. For all my bitchin' I care about these people too." 

Rick nodded again, looking down at his hands where they gripped the fence. "Shane. Lori. Hell, Andrea..." 

"Yeah...." you agreed. "Them."

After a minute, you shook your head. "Andrea's a power hungry bitch, but Lori and I can handle her on our end. She won't cross you, not unless Shane asks her too. Shane and Lori... I'm sorry, Rick. I can't help you there." You touched his shoulder as he nodded. 

"I know," he said. "Sorry to dump on you." 

You smiled at him. "Never be sorry, Rick. I'll help you any way I can. Now go see your boy. He needs you." 

Rick surprised you by pulling you into a quick hug before heading back to the house. 

You made your way back to the tent you and Daryl had been sharing again, a little apart from the others. You weren't really sure if you wanted to sleep with him tonight, after his outburst that morning, but you didn't have anywhere else you wanted to go. Dale was back on the RV for first watch, and you had third, so you crawled into the tent for some sleep. 

 

Daryl didn't come into your tent that night, and you tried not to be too worried. He was there the next morning, sitting by the fire like nothing was wrong when you came off watch, and you nodded as you pulled a flannel off the line of clothes you'd hung to dry the night before. You saw his lips twitch, but you ignored him, heading to camp. 

It wasn't until later you realized you'd grabbed one of his shirts, when Lori's eyebrows shot up and Andrea sneered. Andrea you ignored, but Lori you glared at. Rick was right; you saw everything. Including one shadowy figure in a field, and the wrapper from a pregnancy test found there later. The only question you had was who it belonged to-- Rick, or Deputy Grumpy? 

The women started talking about cooking a meal for Hershel and clan, and you backed the hell out of there before anyone could ask you to pitch in. You joined Rick where he was setting up search grids. Daryl, T Dog, Rick, Shane, Andrea, and one of Hershel's people, the younger girl's boyfriend, traded insults and argued about plans. Finally, they headed out in teams-- Rick and Shane (and wasn't that a great idea?); Andrea and T Dog and Jimmy. 

You thought you'd be paired with Daryl, but Rick turned to you at the last minute and asked you to keep an eye on things at the farm. And you couldn't say no, not after you'd seen how hard things were for him. So Daryl borrowed a horse to go on his own. You thought he was going to leave without even speaking to you, but at the last minute he ran a hand down your arm. 

"Be careful, woman," he said, and was gone before you could respond. 

"You too, Dixon," you whispered as he rode away.


	5. Apparently Being Shot Can Be A Good Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character injury, some personal violence   
> Shane being Shane, Andrea being Andrea  
> and a little fluffy relationship stuff

He didn't come back when the others did, and as was becoming a habit, you tried not to worry about it. 

Andrea climbed up to take watch; Lori and Carol were making dinner in the kitchen with Hershel's daughters, Glenn, and Patricia (the wife of the man who you were pretty sure Shane killed); and you.... You needed to talk to the farmer man himself. 

You found him in his stables, and your heart clenched as you realized he was stroking the neck of the horse Daryl had taken. So he was back, then. Good. 

"Sir?" you asked Hershel, making your voice calm and demure. 

He didn't look up. "YN," he said. "How can I help you? Don't pretend you're all shy. I know better. You're practically Rick's right-hand man." 

You sighed. "Alright, sir," you said, coming over to hold the horse's head yourself as you spoke to him. "Rick told me you want us to leave once Sofia and Carl are ok. We can't do that, and I told Rick I'd change your mind." 

He barely spared you a glance. "And how do you think you're going to do that, my dear?" 

You shrugged. "Honestly, Mr. Greene, I have no idea. But I will. I made my friend a promise, and I keep my promises, sir." 

He looked you in the eyes then, and nodded to the horse you were petting absently. "I can respect that, miss. But you won't be changing my mind. Now... What can you tell me about why my horse just appeared in my stable, saddled and addled?" 

You froze. "Wait... There was no rider?" 

"Indeed," Hershel looked at you strangely, noting the way your face paled. 

"I-- I have to go-- I have to go--" you called over your shoulder, running back to camp. 

 

You ran right into Shane; damn near knocked him over.

"What the hell, girl?" Shane snapped, and the way it sounded too close to what Daryl called you just added temper to the sharp edge of fear and you shoved him away. 

You opened your mouth to yell at him, when Andrea started screaming about a walker. 

You and Shane turned at the same time and broke into a dead run at toward the figure in the field. Rick and Glenn intercepted you, yelling to Andrea not to shoot the damn thing. It was just one after all. 

When you were close enough, you saw who it was. Your bow and Rick's gun were both aimed at his head as you whispered, "Daryl?" 

Daryl glared out at Rick. "That's the third time you've pointed that thang at my head... You gonna pull the trigger or what?" 

You dropped your bow immediately on hearing his voice. Until he spoke, you'd been almost certain he was dead. He certainly looked it. 

"Damn it, Dixon!" you yelled at him, bending half over in relief. He tossed you a cocky grin.

And then dropped to the ground when the gunshot came. 

 

"Daryl!" you screamed, skidding to his side and dropping your bow in the process. 

Rick was screaming, and so were people back in the camp-- you heard Hershel's voice and Lori's-- but you were frantically checking to make sure he was breathing. You felt the tightness in your chest give way a little as Rick and Shane hauled him up. 

"Damn it.... I was kidding!" he said to Rick, then you watched his eyes roll back in his head. 

"Shit," Rick muttered, and he and Shane held him up between them as you started back to the house. 

"What the hell, guys! He's wearing ears!" Glenn said, voice holding some of the panic you were trying not to feel, and you reached over and yanked them off his neck as Andrea and Dale ran toward you. 

"Yeah, let's keep that to ourselves," you muttered to Glenn, pushing past him to get in front of them as Andrea arrived. 

"Is he ok?" she asked, and you walked right up and punched her square in the jaw. She staggered back and dropped to one knee. 

"YN!" Rick yelled, and Dale started to grab you, but you shook his hand off and went toward her as she scrambled to her feet. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you screamed at Andrea as she held one hand to her jaw and backed away from you. "Are you fucking stupid? Do you want to be head bitch so badly you'll actually get people killed now?" You shoved her with each question, and her eyes were wide. 

"Next time you're told not to shoot, don't! Fucking! Shoot!" you screamed, and punched her again. 

"YN!" Rick's voice cut through the blind fury in your mind, and you turned to him. 

"WHAT?" you yelled, seeing all of them standing there watching you. "Damn it, Rick! She nearly got him killed!" 

"I know!" Rick yelled back. "Now we need to get him to Hershel! Help us!" 

You took a look at Daryl, sagging unconscious between Rick and Shane, and felt your heart try to stop again. He had blood coming from a hole in his side, from the cut on his head, and God knew where else. You glared at Andrea one more time, but shoved Shane out of the way, supporting Daryl into Hershel's house. 

 

Hershel was stitching up the hole in Daryl's side (how had he fallen on his own arrow? God, you were never going to let him live that one down.), while Daryl talked to Rick and Shane about finding Sofia's doll. You paced the room angrily, not really listening, glaring out the window at Andrea's back. Dale was trying to look at her jaw, but she was in a fine rage, throwing her hands all over the place as she no doubt bitched about you. As Rick and Shane started arguing about Sofia and what to do next, you couldn't take it anymore. 

"Get out!" you snapped at Shane. He sneered at you but you got right up in his face. 

"I said, get out!" you snarled at him. His eyes flicked down to your lips and lower for just a moment and you felt your hands ball into fists, but Rick's even voice cut through the storm brewing in your mind. 

"She's right, we should let you rest, Daryl. Thank you, brother," he said, reaching out and grasping Daryl's shoulder before herding Shane out the door. You watched, agitated, as they left, then smiled at Hershel, forcing down the frantic anger that had fueled you so far. 

"Thank you, sir," you said to him quietly as he finished off Daryl's stitches. He looked up at you and frowned, but nodded, reading the genuine gratitude in your eyes. 

"Could have told you that horse would buck you. We call her Nelly. As in, Nervous Nelly," he said to Daryl as he left the room. Daryl grunted, not really an apology or an acknowledgment and you would have laughed if you thought you could have stopped once you started.

You paced over to the door and shut it behind the vet before leaning your forehead against it with a sigh. All of the nervous energy that had kept you moving drained from you as soon as that door closed behind the old farmer. 

"Damn it, Daryl," you muttered into the door. "How in the hell...." you trailed off. 

He grunted and shifted on the bed behind you. "What?" he snapped irritably. 

And just like that, the anger came flooding back. "Seriously, Dixon? Don't 'what' me," you snapped, shoving away from the door and resuming your pacing up and down the length of the bed. "You damn near got yourself killed, and you come back looking like a walker and wearin' freakin' ears, man! What is goin' on with you? You've been insane since Sofia went missing! It's like I barely know you!" 

"You do barely know me!" he snapped, and damn if that didn't pull you to an abrupt stop. 

"You're right," you said quietly, drawing your arms around your waist and holding on to the sides of his shirt that was now covered in his blood and sticking to your body. "You're absolutely right. Sorry I yelled at you." 

There were tears burning in the back of your eyes, but you would be damned if you would let him see them. You turned and headed for the door, but a creak and a groan came from behind you. 

He grabbed you by the waist and spun you around, jerking you in against him to wrap both arms around you and pull you against his bare chest. His nose was in your hair and you could feel him tremble. 

"I'm sorry," he said into your hair. "I'm sorry. I'm an ass, ok? I'm sorry. Don't leave." 

Your arms locked around him before you could think, and you started crying, tears pouring down your face and into his chest. 

 

"Jesus, Daryl, Jesus," you said when you could get a word out a minute later, pulling away from him. "What are you-- get back in bed!" You started pushing him backwards, herding him toward the bed. 

He went, grunting as he eased down into the bed again, but he grabbed your hand as you fussed. "Would you stop, woman? We need to talk, and I can't talk to you when you're flutterin'." 

You stopped, taking deep breaths to counter the tightness in your lungs. "I don't flutter," you growled at him, but he could hear the edge of tears still in your voice. 

"Hey, hey," Daryl said, rubbing his fingers across your palm. "I'm alright. I'm alright. Sit down before you fall down." 

You dropped into the chair at his side with a sigh. "Damn it, Dixon. Tell me what's going on. Please?" 

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, rolling onto his side to face you. "I'm sorry," he said again, quietly, as you leaned forward and rested your head against the side of the mattress. 

"I got lost in the woods once when I was a kid," Daryl said quietly, bringing his hand up to play with the ends of your hair like he had in the CDC. You lifted your head a bit to look at him, resting your chin on your arm. "Nobody even noticed I was gone. That's why I've been acting weird. I just can't stand the thought of that girl out there alone. Want her to know somebody's lookin' for her, ya know?" he asked, refusing to meet your eyes. 

You were still holding his other hand, and you gripped his fingers tighter. "That's awful," you murmured. "But is that... Is that really it?" 

A minute passed and neither of you spoke. 

"Daryl..." you finally said, looking down at his big hand surrounding yours. "What are we?" You asked flat out, not daring to look at him. 

He was silent just long enough to have you look up at him, dreading what you might find in his face. It would hurt too much, you realized, to lose him as a friend now; even more than it would hurt to not deal with the emotions he'd stirred up inside you, things you'd thought dead. But his blue eyes were staring right at you, waiting for you to meet them; and when you did, he smiled. 

"What'd ya wanna be?" he asked teasingly, and you sighed. 

"Just answer me, Daryl," you said wearily, not wanting to play games anymore. "You nearly died. I need to know."

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling on your hand until you crawled into the bed with him and were tucked under his arm and against his chest. You slid an arm around him, wary of the bandage on his side. Your fingers started exploring the skin on his back, unable to stop yourself, and finding the ridge of one of those vicious scars. You'd seen them before and knew they were from his dad. 

You supposed the fact that he was letting you this close was almost answer enough. Almost. 

He started running the tips of his fingers up and down your arm. "I ain't good with words, YN," he said quietly. "Worse with-- with feelin's. Truth is, I don't know what we are. I just like bein' close to you. Like holdin' you. Wanna keep you safe..." he trailed off, ducking down to press a kiss to the top of your head as he slid his hand into your hair. 

"I wanna kiss you," he said so quietly that you almost didn't hear. Almost. 

You tipped your head back to look at him, and there was that blush spreading over his cheeks, even to the tips of his ears. It looked strange sitting over his pale skin, and you took a longer look at how tired and pinched his eyes were. 

"This is hurting you," you blurted out, trying to pull away from him. He locked his arms around you, holding you to his side. 

He scowled at you. "YN." It was his turn to sound stressed. "I ain't lettin' you go unless you tell me you want me to. Can you just...." He gestured wildly and you remembered the last thing he'd said. 

You huffed at him and rolled your eyes. "Damn it, Dixon. You're too damn stubborn for your own good!" 

He started to say something else, but before he could, you leaned forward and pressed your lips hungrily against his. 

The hand in your hair gripped hard and pulled you closer. A low growl came from deep in his chest as he curled into you, pulling you closer against him as he kissed you back like he was dying and you were water and food and shelter all in one. Your hand gripped his back hard and his arm came to your elbow, hauling you even closer to him. You gasped into his mouth and gave as good as you got, pushing into him until he broke off the kiss with a hiss of pain. 

You pulled back immediately, shoving up onto one arm to get a look at his side. He fell back onto his back with a groan. 

"Sorry! Damn it!" you said, starting to crawl out of the bed. 

"Don't you go anywhere, woman." His voice pinned you in place more securely than any bonds could have. "I ain't done with you yet," he added, and you shivered at his tone. 

You sat up the rest of the way and looked into his face, and read the naked want there. 

"Slow down, cowboy," you said, a grin stretching your lips. "You're full of holes and thread right now. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself even more." 

"Thought Rick was the cowboy," Daryl shot back. "And trust me, what I'm thinkin' bout doin' ain't gonna hurt." 

"Oh yeah? What if I want it to?" you flirted without a thought as a knock sounded at the door. 

"Damn it, woman!" Daryl grunted at you, and pulled the blanket up over his chest as you winked while opening the door. 

"Oh!" Carol said, standing in the hallway with a plate in her hand. You couldn't tell if she was more surprised by your presence or by the foolish grins on both of your faces, but she recovered quickly enough. "Sorry, YN. I didn't know you were still up here or I would have brought you a plate too." 

You smiled sincerely at her, stepping back to let her into the room. She put the plate down on the side table and touched Daryl's shoulder. 

"I just want you to know.... You did more today for my little girl than her daddy ever did," Carol told him quietly, and you could tell by the way he barely grunted in response that he was flustered. 

"Wasn't nothin' Rick or Shane wouldn't of done," he muttered, and you wanted to scream. They always made him believe he was less. They hadn't seen his worth yet, but you'd be damned if they weren't going to soon. 

From the doorway, Carol spoke again, and you almost kissed her you were so happy. She met your eyes as she did, and you saw understanding and respect there. 

"I know," she said softly. "You're every bit as good as they are, Daryl." 

And then she was gone, before he could say anything.


	6. Walkers, Stalkers, and Blows, Oh My

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attempted rape/non con  
> violence  
> domestic violence triggers  
> lots and lots of language, sorry, but necessary

Lori was pregnant and the barn was full of walkers. 

Glenn and the Farmer's Daughter-- Maggie, damn it, you really had to stop giving people nicknames-- weren't speaking, but they were out on a run together, to pick up something Lori had requested. When were people going to realize they had no secrets from you?

Rick and Shane were fighting (big fucking surprise) over whether or not to keep looking for Sofia, and despite very clear instructions otherwise, Daryl was refusing to stay in bed and rest. 

Dale was trying to talk to Hershel about the walkers, Andrea was pouting about God only knew what, and when did all of these things become your problem, damn it? Did you look like a fucking camp counselor? 

The only good thing going right now was Carl walking around with his dad's hat and (for real, Lori?) a pistol at his waist. Damn, it was good to see that kid up, even if you did think the gun wasn't the best idea. 

Daryl was moodily stomping around your campsite as you noticed Trigger-Happy Barbie approaching him, holding a book. Hell no. 

You silently crept up behind her (seriously, how did these people survive without you?), leaning against a tree just to her left and behind. Daryl saw you, but other than the amusement in his eyes, he gave no hint of your presence. You caught the tail end of her apology and Daryl gave her a small smile. 

"We're good," he said, and you were fairly sure that was directed at you more than her. She exhaled in relief, and he continued, "But if you shoot me again, you'd best pray I'm dead." 

"And you better have taken me out first," you growled. Andrea whipped around, not having known you were there, and you got your first look at the spreading bruise the went up her jaw, onto her cheek, and down part of her neck. It was already turning purple and green, and you couldn't help the satisfaction that curled in your core. 

She looked back at Daryl, studiously ignoring your presence, but Daryl had opened the book in clear dismissal. Andrea started to walk away, but you stopped her with a look. 

"He might have forgiven you, but you and I ain't clear," you told her quietly. "Stay out of my way and stop trying to be in charge, and you might live." 

She curled her lip in a characteristic sneer, but you could see the fear in her eyes as she moved away from you without responding. 

You watched her retreat for a moment before turning to Daryl. 

"Alright, Dixon, come with me," you said, walking away before he could ask any questions. He caught up to you quickly (it's not like you were going that fast, man had a damn arrow hole in his side) but didn't ask any questions. You liked that, so reached out and grabbed his hand, just because you could. He squeezed your hand in his. 

"I need T Dog's help," you said conversationally, "so I need you to replace him on watch. This whole damn camp's gone to shit and Rick needs help to fix it. I need someone I trust keeping an eye out for walkers. Will you get up there and stay there?" you asked finally, turning to look at him as you reached the RV. 

He gave you a look that clearly said he knew he was being manipulated, but nodded finally. "Yeah, guess so." 

"Thank you." You shifted closer and brushed a kiss to his lips with a soft smile. His I-know-what-you're-doing face intensified, but the light in his eyes was real as he ran a hand over your hair and headed up the ladder. 

You wandered a bit away, toward the camp, as he and T Dog spoke for a minute, then you heaved out a sigh of relief as Daryl lowered himself into the chair and grabbed the binoculars, crossbow at his side. 

T Dog slid down the ladder and jogged over to you. "Daryl said you needed me?" he asked curiously. 

You and T hadn't interacted a whole lot, but he was a solid man and not bad at killing walkers. You nodded at him and started walking again, away from the RV, before you spoke. 

"Yeah...." you said, and looked up at T. "Mostly I just needed you to let Daryl take watch. Idiot won't follow orders and stay in one place unless someone makes him. I figure at least up there, his ass is sittin' down, and if he thinks he's doing me a favor, he'll stay there." You watched T Dog's face and relaxed a little as he grinned at you in appreciation. 

"You don't miss a beat, do you?" he teased. 

"That I don't. Gotta stay aware to stay alive," you smiled back. "But I do actually need you to pretend to look busy. He knows what I'm doin' and he knows I know he knows--" you paused and shook your head at how convoluted that sounded, and T Dog nodded. 

"-- But as long as it looks real, he'll keep playing along," he finished for you. "Yeah, I can do that." He started toward the house and you caught his arm. 

"Stay close, though," you said quietly. "Something's up, and I can't shake the feeling that somethin' major is about to happen. Be alert, ok?" 

He stared at your face for a moment before nodding once. 

"Any idea where Rick is?" you asked, scanning the farm as you and T Dog started walking again. 

"He and Hershel disappeared into the woods a bit ago," T Dog said with a shrug and you ground your teeth. You really needed to deal with both of them, but whatever. 

"Alright, thanks. I'll be back. Watch out for the others for me, T, ok?" And you took off for the woods on the barn side of the house. 

 

You came to the barn from behind, wanting to see these walkers for yourself before sharing what Glenn had told you with the rest of the group. So far, only Glenn, Dale, and yourself knew what was going on, and Glenn and Dale had no idea you had overheard their conversation. 

Inside the barn, you took in a quick count of the walkers. Probably about two dozen, nothing you couldn't have handled quietly on your own from where you were. You thought about it, you really did, but.... 

Rick would have your head if you put your presence on the farm in danger like that. Hershel had obviously been keeping them fed-- chicken feathers all around gave that away-- and he would kick you out in a heartbeat if you killed them all. On the other hand, if Deputy Assface or Trigger-Happy Barbie found out.... 

"Damn it," you muttered, leaving the barn and slipping back into the woods. Where was Rick when he needed to be here? 

"What are you doin' sneaking around here?" 

Oh for shit's sake. You turned and saw Shane stalking toward you. For a minute, you thought maybe he knew about the barn already and was going to take a look, but you had gone toward where your group had established a shooting range before doubling back to camp. He was coming straight from the range and it was just your bad luck to run into him here. 

"I ain't sneakin' anywhere," you shot back, keeping yourself moving. The iron in your lungs was back, but like hell were you going to let him make you afraid. 

He grabbed your arm and jerked you to a stop hard enough to bruise. "Yeah, you are," he said, looking everywhere but at you and you glared at him. 

"You better let go of me now, asshole," you said warningly. 

"Yeah? Or what? Tell me what you were doing in the barn," he commanded, and started dragging you back toward it. 

God damn it. This was the last thing you needed. You dug your heels in and fought him every step, but you had only been a buck thirty soaking wet before the apocalypse, and with your new eat-if-you-can diet, you didn't stand a chance. You were strong, sure, but he was stronger. 

When he stopped at the back of the barn, he heard the groans and drug you around to face him, pushing you up against the barn. 

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he snarled. "There are walkers in the damn barn, and you knew? Why the hell are they still alive?" 

"Back the fuck up, Shane!" you snapped, and to your surprise he did, just enough for you to move into his space instead. "Leave it alone. Rick and I will handle it!" 

"Oh, Rick knows about this too? And where the hell is he, princess?" 

And you were off, yelling back and forth at each other about walkers and rules and who the fuck was in charge here. 

You weren't expecting him to grab you again, though you probably should have been, and the shock of being shoved against the barn meant you didn't duck the hand that came up and pressed against your neck. 

It wasn't enough to cut off your air, but the threat was there, and you felt the outraged shout die in your throat when you caught the look in his eyes. Not fucking again, you barely had time to think before he crushed his mouth to yours, his other hand trying to slide under your shirt. 

Ok, no. Just no. You were not going to get raped against a fucking barn with a herd of zombies just behind the wood at your back. This asshole was done. 

You struggled against him and he started to tighten the hand on your throat, so you did what any reasonable person would in that situation. 

You bit him, hard enough to draw blood, and when he reared back-- haven't the two of you fucking been here before?-- you exploded up, shoving off the barn with all your might and staggering him back. Then your bow was in your hands and drawn, and aimed right between his eyes. 

"Walk," you commanded softly, and he stood there, chest heaving. "I will end you right here and right now, fucker. Or you can have a chance to defend yourself to the rest of the group. Your choice." You voice was soft, a cold steel promise, and you watched as something like regret came into his eyes. He nodded, and turned toward the camp, moving slowly and cautiously, arms raised. You moved silently behind him, bow locked on the spot between his shoulders. 

 

"What the hell?" Daryl yelled as Shane led the way into camp, and he was off the roof before you could tell him to stay put. 

"Group meetin'!" you called, as your group and Hershel's family came streaming toward you. Glenn and Maggie were with them, so they were back, and Lori came swinging out of her tent, looking pale and shocked.

"Gather 'round, people, we got shit to discuss. It's time for some damn group therapy, 'parently." You could hear your accent and yes, you could hear how you sounded, but you were pissed and no longer cared how these people saw you. 

Daryl had his crossbow drawn and aimed at Shane, taking his cue from you. You glanced at the shocked faces, most people gripping their knives. Carl stared at you evenly, and you felt a flicker of regret that you were going to have to destroy his hero in front of him. But you didn't see Rick or Hershel in the group and you sighed. 

"Ok, asshat, to the ground. Have a seat, nice'n'easy," you instructed, and he did, sitting on his knees and feet in what you knew was a ready position. Good enough, you guessed. 

"T, come get the man's weapons, would you please?" you asked, your voice honey over steel, and to your amazement, T Dog did as you asked. Barbie was glaring at you and Daryl, and man if looks could kill.... 

"Where's Rick?" you snapped at Lori when she reached for you and started to speak. 

"He and Hershel are still gone," T Dog said quietly at your shoulder. Shane's gun and knife were on the ground at your feet and you gave T a nod, not taking your eyes-- or bow-- off of Shane. 

"Damn it. I'd hoped he'd be here for this," you snarled. "Oh well. He'll get his say when he gets back. Thang is, folks, we got ourselves what y'all might call a situation. No, not a petty one like Queen Bee bein' pregnant--" A bunch of shocked eyes moved to Lori and she glared at you, crossing her arms, but you didn't back down. 

"--Or Speed Racer and Farmer's Daughter with their trust issues, or Trigger Happy Barbie over there and her need to rule the roost. This one-- wait, these two," you amended, because you needed to talk about the barn too, "These two are actual problems. Safety and survival problems. Now, do we all think we can get our heads out of our collective asses and discuss thangs like reasonable people, or do I have to keep this arrow on your head, Shane?" His name ripped out of you viciously, and he nodded. 

"I won't move," he said softly, and you heard the promise in his voice. For now. You dropped your bow, and to your relief, Daryl dropped his-- which was the only reason you had lowered yours. This thing between the two of you was still very new, and you weren't sure he wouldn't just shot the man point blank when you said what you were about to say. 

"So, I said two issues, folks. Number one, which concerns ol' Officer Overly-Friendly here--" Daryl's eyes shot to yours and you saw his body tense at your new nickname for Shane. You knew he had his suspicions about the CDC, but he hadn't pressed. You had been right to get the weapons down if the look in his eye was any indication. "-- has a little problem keeping his hands to himself," you finished steadily, holding Daryl's eye as he snarled. You shook your head at him. 

"No, Dixon, don't kill him just yet," you warned, and felt the groups shocked looks swing wildly between you and him. "He put his hands on me at the CDC -- and yes, Lori, I suspected you too, thanks for confirmin' that for me," you added as you felt her stiffen beside you. "And he just had me pinned to the barn with his hand on my neck, lips on mine, and a hand up my shirt," you finished angrily, and watched Andrea's bitchface snap into place. Great, that would be a fight. 

Daryl growled-- legit growled, and damn if that didn't give you a shiver of lust, holy hell-- at Shane, but held his place. He was trusting you, thank the Lord. 

"What are you talking about?" Barbie snapped, eyes rolling. "Are we just supposed to believe you that Shane would try to attack you or something?" 

"Rape me," you spat at her, looking her in the eyes. "And no, you don't have to take my word for it. I mean, you could, and not be a bitch, but if you need the proof..." you trailed off and tilted your head back, showing off the bruise you new was forming on your throat. 

The next thing you knew, Andrea was screeching and the sounds of fists meeting flesh rang out. Daryl had Shane pinned to the ground and was very determinedly pounding his face in. Everyone was yelling, Dale was moving toward the two of them, and Carol-- 

Damn it, Carol was holding Carl, crying, and you could see her shaking from all the way over here. Lori was fluttering and demanding everyone listen to her, T Dog was trying to get close to Daryl, and Andrea was suddenly all up in your face yelling obscenities at you. Was this bitch serious? 

"Daryl! Stop it! You're scaring Carol!" you snapped, and his fist paused as his head whipped over to look at the poor woman. You shoved Andrea back from your face in the meantime, and growled. "Are you looking to get punched again, Barbie?" 

Daryl had climbed off Shane, who staggered to his feet, one eye swollen shut and blood coming from his nose, mouth, and cheek, and took off for the field, screaming. 

"What is this? What the hell is this?" 

You followed his gaze and saw Rick and Hershel, heading toward the barn, leading walkers on lead poles. 

This day just couldn't get any fucking better, could it?


	7. The Barn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character death, language, violence, the usual

"Shane!" you screamed, running after him as he bolted for Rick and Hershel. "Don't make me shoot you, damn it!" 

He didn't stop, and you knew you weren't going to shoot him. You weren't so sure about Daryl, but thankfully, no crossbow bolts came whistling through the air before you skidded to a halt at Rick's side. 

Shane was yelling, screaming at Rick and Hershel, and the walkers on their lead poles were trying desperately to eat him. Rick struggled with his, looking from Hershel to Shane to you to the crowd following you. Daryl had his crossbow up, but it was swinging wildly between Shane and the walkers, his eyes flicking back and forth, trying to determine the bigger threat. 

You took a deep breath, threw up you hands, and screamed over the others' voices, silencing everyone but the walker's growls and snarls. 

"The barn's full of walkers!" 

All eyes on you. Shane started to get up in your face, but Daryl's bow was dead between his eyes and he froze. Rick was looking wildly between Shane's bloody face, Hershel's angry one, and you with your bow in your hand and one hand on your hip. 

"Yes, Glenn, I know. I heard you and Dale talking. When are you people going to realize that if you say it, someone hears it? Y'all ain't got any secrets around here, not from someone who keeps their eyes open and their mouth shut. Hershel," you snapped, turning to him. 

Shane was pacing wildly between you and Rick and Hershel. Daryl was at your side, bow following him, but you could feel his tension. And shit-- you glanced down at him for a moment, and sure enough, he'd opened the stitches in his side. 

"Hershel," you said again, softer, knowing now was the time to put aside the tight panic-driven rage that had been driving you since Shane stepped out of the woods. Everyone here needed to calm the fuck down. "Why?" you asked simply. 

He glared and didn't answer. 

Maggie did. "He thinks they can be cured. That they're sick. My stepmom and stepbrother are in there. Neighbors, friends. People," she said, and you caught the edge to her voice. 

You looked at her. "do you agree? You think they can be cured?"

Her jaw clenched, and she shoved one hand through her short dark hair. "No," she said shortly. "They're dead, and they're dangerous. Daddy, one of them nearly ate me, in town. It's time, Daddy, please. Can't you see?" her voice dropped off into a raw whisper, and Glenn wrapped his arm around her and pulled her head to his shoulder. 

Hershel met your eyes as Shane continued to rage between you, and he nodded, ever so slightly. You nodded back, and in one motion, your bow was up, drawn, and the arrow buried itself in the walker Rick held. 

"Rick," you said, and he nodded, dropping the pole and pulling a knife, plunging it into the one Hershel still held at arms length. 

"Alright, people, gather 'round," you snapped, and Daryl turned as you did, keeping his bow on Shane, who had stopped pacing. "There's somewhere around two dozen in the barn. We're gonna have people on either side of the doors, opening one at time, letting just a few out. We don't have our guns, so it's hand to hand, folks. If you ain't fightin', get behind those of us who are. That includes you, Carl!" you snapped, seeing him reaching for the gun at his side. 

He shot you a stubborn, betrayed look and you walked over to him and dropped into a crouch. "It's not because you're a kid, buddy," you told him seriously, and he cocked his head at you. 

"Yes, I've noticed you too," you said with a small smile for him. "You've seen more shit than most everyone here had when they were your age. You can handle yourself, I know. That ain't it. But I also see that gun you have tucked into your waistband, so you're the last defense. If any slip by us-- Well," you said, and he nodded, drawing the gun from behind his back. 

"What the hell, young man?" you heard Lori say in disbelief, but now was so not the time for her crappy parenting. 

"Ok, everyone--" You started, but Shane chose that moment to go off like the loose fucking cannon he was. 

He pulled a gun from his waist, too, and shot the lock off the barn. 

"Shane! Damn it!" you screamed, even as Daryl called your name in a question. 

"Leave him!" you snapped. "We'll deal with him later! Get fucking ready, he's just gonna throw those doors wide open-- look alive, people!" 

Sure enough, Shane tossed the board back from the doors, yelling about showing everyone who was in charge and security and how we were all idiots, and then the dead shoved the doors wide. 

"You better hope you get bit, Asshole, or I'm gonna kill ya myself!" Daryl yelled at Shane, and you heard him just start laughing and shooting. 

You and Daryl stayed back, shooting arrows into the crowd of walkers who shambled out, a long-range defense as others went closer and started the knife work. 

It didn't take long, and it was a damn slaughter. Soon everyone was panting, looking at the dead scattered around, and damn if Shane wasn't still standing, covered with gore and holding an empty gun. 

Daryl took two steps forward and had his knife out, but you grabbed his arm. "Not like this, Dixon!" you snapped. "Let the group decide. We'll get back to talking it all out after we clean this up." 

Rick started toward the two of you, but stopped when Carol screamed. 

Everyone turned to watch, distraught, as one last walker shambled out of the barn. 

"Sofia!" Carol cried, and Daryl turned and caught her as she ran, falling to the ground with a grunt of pain.


	8. Planing Stages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of rape/noncon  
> discussion of past abuse  
> A little fluffy relationship stuff

Hershel had stitched Daryl up again, and to ensure he got some rest this time, you were currently laying stretched along the ground with your head in his lap. Both of you were pouring over maps and neat lists of supplies in Carol's careful handwriting. You were making plans, while Rick was off arguing with Shane about his behavior. 

Daryl's fingers were playing with your hair as you plotted out exit strategies, branching out from the farm in different directions. 

"What do you think?" you asked quietly, pointing to the three spots you'd chosen.

"Here, on the highway where..." you trailed off and Daryl heaved a sigh. 

"Yeah, that's a good one," he said. "The other two make sense as well. Coverin' bases from all directions. Only thing is, we can't lose three cars, or we won't be able to all ride outta here." 

You nodded as he leaned over you, pointing to another spot on the map. "Yeah, but what about this town, where Maggie and Glenn were going for supplies? We could send a team there to pick up another vehicle, and get it back over to our escape route, and come back here by this other road. Just in case anyone's around to watch. Then we could send another team over to here--" you pointed to another mapdot town, on the far side of the farm, "to do the same on this side. Track back home via this road, obscuring the path..." 

He was nodding, following your thought process. But then he tilted your head back to look up at him. "Whatcha scared of, woman?" he asked quietly. "I ain't arguin', mind, but it's like you know someone's out there lookin' to do us harm or somethin'." 

Your eyes flicked away from his guiltily and you sighed. "I do. I know. Before.... I had a group...." you trailed off, and he reached down and covered your hand with his. 

"Is that what you dream about?" he asked quietly. "The nightmares, I mean?" 

Oh. Those. 

"No-- no, actually," you said slowly. "It's not. Those are from-- from before all of this. Before the dead started rising. There was-- I mean, I was-- well, people have been shit since before all this," you finished lamely, and he growled under his breath. 

"Boyfriend?" he guessed, playing with your hair with a kind of forced nonchalance. "He hit ya?"

You shook your head, closing your eyes and gripping his hand. "No. No, he didn't hit me. He didn't have to. It was easier to use sex to get me to do what he wanted," you confessed finally, the first time you had admitted that to literally anyone, dead or alive. No one had known how many times he'd forced you into things you didn't want to do. 

Daryl's fingers stilled on your hair, then resumed after a moment as he took a deep breath. 

"He still alive?" he growled, and you let out a short, unhappy laugh. 

"Don't treat me like a victim, Dixon," you warned. "I went through hell with him, then the world ended, and I watched people-- the good ones, the ones who tried to help me-- get killed one by one by the bad kind of people. I ain't a victim. I'm a survivor." 

And you had no desire to actually answer the question of whether or not he was dead, since the last time you saw him it was with a pair of kitchen shears in his throat and you honestly weren't sure if he had made it.

"You're a damn warrior, YN," he said seriously, and you met his eyes, a blush on your cheeks and a smile starting on your lips. 

"You think?" you asked quietly, more moved by that than by any complement he could have given you. 

"Hell yes," he answered, and bent to kiss you, but you stopped him with a hand on his forehead. 

"Stitches, Dixon, stitches. I need you functioning, not constantly under Hershel's needle!" 

He grumbled a little but stayed upright, and Rick chuckled as he approached. 

"Keepin' him on the straight and narrow already, YN?" he asked, and you saw the genuine affection in his eyes as he looked at you both. But you could also see the tension he was barely holding in check. 

"Did ya kill him?" Daryl asked bluntly, and you swung yourself up from his lap to a sitting position and glared at him. 

"Dixon!" you snapped. "That's his friend you're talking about! Have some respect, would you?" 

Daryl glared back. "You defendin' him? He put that bruise on you, and he just let all them walkers out a the barn! He coulda killed us all!" 

"Don't make me a victim, Dixon!" you said for the second time in minutes, shoving strands of hair back from your face. "Yeah, he could have hurt me, but he didn't, because I stopped him both times! I appreciate the White Knight routine, but damn it, that's not how the world works. At least, it's not how it should! Self-defense is one thing, and if I'd had to kill him to keep myself ok, I would have-- no hesitation," you said, softening your tone and touching his face. "But I didn't. And killing him now would just be.... murder." You finished with a shrug. 

"About that...." Rick cut in before Daryl could speak. Both of you stared up at him. 

"Oh my God, Rick, you'd didn't kill him, did you?" you asked, shocked. 

He held up his hands placatingly. "No, no, of-- of course not. But we need to-- the group needs-- we gotta do something," he finally finished, dropping down to a crouch beside you and dragging this fingers through the dirt. "He's a hazard." 

"Damn right he's a hazard, Rick," Daryl snarled. "I say we kill him, or take him a ways out and let him take his chances somewhere else. Don't need him here in camp." 

Rick nodded, more acknowledgement than agreement. "That's one option. Thing is, though.... We do need him." 

"The hell we do!" Daryl exploded, shooting to his feet and starting to pace. You and Rick stood up too, Rick watching him with wary eyes. You were watching Rick, though, and finally you sighed. 

"Tell me," you said simply, touching Rick's arm. Something in your tone got through to Daryl, and he turned to Rick, calming instantly. 

"Hershel," Rick answered. "Lori's pregnant. It may be Shane's, but no matter what, that baby is mine," he said fiercely and you nodded, accepting his declaration even as you pondered the consequences. "We can't leave here, but Hershel... Well, he ain't happy about the way the barn was handled." 

"I told you to let me handle Hershel," you said. "And I meant it. I've got some ideas. I think I can get him to come around." 

"His daughter's catatonic," Rick said, and you blinked in surprise. 

"Maggie?" you asked. She had struck you as one tough chick, if inexperienced in walker slaying. 

"Beth," Rick answered. "The younger girl." 

"Damn," you muttered. That would pose a problem. 

"Don't see why any of this means we need to keep a damn rapist around," Daryl put in, but it wasn't the dangerously angry tone, it was a considering one. 

"There's another thang," Rick said, and you braced yourself. That southern drawl told you to pay attention-- this was the big one. "I spotted a herd. Like the one from the road. The cattle, the people, the noise-- it's drawin' them here. We need a plan...." 

"Son of a bitch," Daryl said, throwing his hands up. 

"Ok," you said slowly, mind racing six steps ahead. "Ok, I get it. Rick, I was already thinking of some things. How far out is the herd?" you asked, all business now that planning needed to be done. 

"Bout twenty more miles. Far enough we got at least a day or two. Maybe a few more," he said. "Tell me what you're thinking." 

"Ok," you bent and grabbed your maps, lists, and pen from the ground and strode over to the hood of Daryl's truck, laying the map out flat. The two men gathered around you and you started pointing to things. 

"We were planning exit routes. I'm thinking, put vehicles here, here, and here. With gas, ready to go in case of emergency. Stock them with some basic supplies: bandages, water bottles, a few cans of food. Any medicine we can spare. Maybe some knives. Guns and ammo would be ideal, but I think we're going to need them all here." You looked at him to see if he was following you so far, and he nodded, studying the map and the places you marked. 

"That's a good thought, but where are we gonna get the cars? Can't spare them from here," Rick asked, and you and Daryl met each other's eyes and smiled. 

"We can use my truck for one," Daryl put in. "The bike will fit the two of us anyway, and that's as many seats as we'd loose leavin' the truck there. Then we talked about sending teams here and here, to find them, drop them off, and come back along these routes," he finished, and Rick was nodding in agreement. 

"Teams of two," you agreed. "We also need to get this camp closer to the house. I know we were giving Hershel his space, but with the herd coming, we need to be more defensible. Ideally, we'd be in the house...." you trailed off, contemplating the wide porches of the farmhouse. "Let me work on that." 

You shook yourself and returned to outlining the plan. "Then we're going to need a better watchtower. The RV won't have good sight lines if we move it closer, and honestly, it's not that great a vantage point from here anyway. Then--" You stop abruptly, noticing Rick's stare. 

"What?" you asked, blushing a little under his open gaze, thinking you'd said something stupid. 

Rick turned to Daryl and smiled. He just grinned back with a nod. 

"Damn, Daryl, you did good spotting this one on the side of the road," Rick said before turning back to you. 

"What the hell did you do before all this?" he asked you curiously. 

You shrugged uncomfortably. "Nothing all that exciting," you muttered, causing the two men to exchange glances. Rick lifted one eyebrow at Daryl. 

"Don't ask me, man," he drawled lazily. "I know about as much as you do." 

And wasn't that going to come back to haunt you later? You thought grumpily. No way were you telling them what you used to do. 

"If you two don't mind...?" You asked instead, and they both grinned at the biting tone. 

"Sorry," Rick said, not looking sorry in the least. He had one hand on the hood of the truck and one propped on the gun you just registered as on his hip. So we had guns again; that ticked a box off your checklist. "Just impressed, that's all." 

"Thanks," you mumbled, turning back to the maps and blushing. "Anyway.... Where was I?"

"After buildin' a lookout, before the supply run," Daryl put in, running a hand absently over your shoulder as he scanned the field and the woods in the distance. 

Rick laughed. "I guess you've heard this already?" 

"Once or twice," Daryl muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You tossed your hands up with a sigh. 

"I thought there was a problem here, boys?" you snapped, and now Rick did look apologetic. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just nice to see you two looking so... content," he said. "What's that about a supply run?" he asked, and you pulled forward the lists of what you had. 

Carol's neat handwriting made it absurdly clear how little they really had to spare. 

"We need some things. And we need kits," you said, handing Rick another list, where you'd outlined what you thought should go in each of the get away cars, in the medical pack you wanted to have organized, and in each individual's emergency pack. "This is, you know, the ultimate dream. We could get by on a whole lot less than what I've listed for these, but just imagine if we had all of it," you said seriously. 

Rick nodded as he read, looking even more impressed. "You're right," he agreed finally. "I don't think there's any way in hell we can get outfitted this good, but having a list-- goals-- that's giving us a great place to start. Can't believe they never thought of anything like this in the quarry," he added, flicking a glance at Daryl. 

Daryl shrugged silently. 

"I wasn't there," you said simply. "I'm an organized soul. I like lists and plans. Ok, so then, if we can get all this taken care of, we should be in pretty good shape. I've got some ideas for diverting that herd, or we can try to take them on. We'll see what makes more sense. But we need to start thinking about sustainability. Maybe better fences, bigger ones, to keep the walkers from ever getting here. Ok, ok," you waved your hands at Rick's look of astonishment. "That's just a pipe dream too right now. But we have to think ahead, and I've had a long time to do so." 

"How can you be thinkin' that far in the future right now?" Rick asked, shaking his head at you. "I'm still wrapping my mind around the fact that the dead are rising up and walking around." 

You shrugged. "Life finds a way," you said simply. "And if someone's not thinking about the future, about putting civilization back together the way it should be.... Well, there's people out there killing other people-- living people, Rick, not the dead-- for things that they want. They'll take what you have in a heartbeat. So we have to be ready, and able to show the world there's a better way." 

The look Rick was giving you made you shuffle your feet uncomfortably. "But that's so far in the future. Right now, we know what we need to do. But Rick--" you met his eyes, toe to toe, as an equal. 

"Daryl's not totally wrong, Rick," you said seriously. "Something has to be done about Shane. I don't hate him." Daryl scoffed behind you and muttered something that sounded a lot like 'I do'.

"I don't," you assured Rick as he looked away from you guiltily. "But I don't trust him. I can see why you want to keep him here. Besides the fact that he is-- or was-- your friend, and I know how much that counts for to you Rick, I really do; we need the numbers and the strength. But he's not safe. He's angry and volitile, and he's a danger to himself and all of us. And if there's even the slightest chance that that baby's his--" 

Rick was nodding as you shook your head and huffed out a breath. 

"He'll be even more dangerous," Daryl put in. 

You nodded, eyes still on Rick. "And it's awful and I'd change it if I could, Rick, but you have to handle it. You have to decide. Not the group, not me, just you. And you have to make sure he's safe to be around, no matter what." 

Rick sighed. "He was my best friend, YN," he said quietly, eyes on the fields around him. "He was my brother. Had my back and I had his. Now... He got my family out of there and kept them safe until I could find them. That's a debt I can't ever pay." 

You had a sinking feeling you knew where this was going, but then his eyes hardened as Rick went on. "But he put his hands on my wife. I ain't talkin' about the affair. She thought I was dead, and it was-- hell, I don't blame her for that. I mean at the CDC. She told me, and he admitted to it. And he put his hands on you, twice. He could have killed you if you hadn't gotten the drop on him, and then he could have killed us all at the barn." 

He was silent again, and Daryl ran his hand down the back of your arm until your fingers intertwined, still watching Rick. Rick drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking over at the two of you. 

"I don't know if there's any of my friend left in him," Rick admitted. "Don't worry. I'll handle it. Think Shane and I are gonna take a drive," he said firmly. "I'm gonna leave you two in charge. Ask you to start all these preparations we've talked about. That ok?" He asked, meeting each of your eyes in turn. 

You let go of Daryl's hand and stepped over to Rick. You rose on your toes and kissed his cheek, then wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He hugged you tightly back, and you released him. 

"We'll handle it, Rick. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry," you said, and he nodded and walked away.


	9. Let's Get to Work, People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of down time for the reader  
> cannon divergence starts getting bigger here, fyi

Rick and Shane were gone. You had Andrea, Carol, Lori, Beth (who'd snapped out of her funk after an abortive suicide attempt, and weren't you glad you hadn't had to deal with that shit), and Carl ripping clean sheets from the farm into bandages. They were organizing what you had for the emergency packs for the cars while you and Daryl marked three more maps with the final destinations of each car. You didn't mark the paths in or out of the farm that you wanted your teams to take, just in case anything happened on the road, and Daryl had agreed. 

"Ok, what vehicles are we thinking for this? The group's going to be short four from just those leaving, and another with Rick and Shane...." you trailed off, looking at the vehicles parked near the house. They didn't have many to choose from. 

"I'll take the bike, head one team goin' out," Daryl said. "I'll take the town we don't know anything about. Let Maggie and Glenn be team two, do our supply run and get the second car on the road. And then someone else can do number three, which'll be a quick run up to the highway to leave the truck. That one won't take long. You won't be left without cars for long."

"I won't?" You asked him, looking up into his eyes. "I'm going with you, Dixon."

"No," he said quietly. 

You drew up from where you'd been leaning over the hood of the car. 

"Damn it, Dixon! You don't get to tell me what to do!" you snapped, fury in your eyes. Of all the egotistical, male bullshit, you had not expected it from him, and you started to storm off angrily. 

He caught your arm though, and pulled you back to him. His grip gentled when you winced. Somehow, he'd caught you right where Shane had. Daryl looked at your arm and rubbed a hand over it in mute apology, then touched your face. 

"It ain't about no sexist bullshit, woman," he said, and you might have laughed at how close that came to what you'd been thinking yourself, if you hadn't been so angry. 

"Then what?" you asked, crossing your arms in a stubborn refusal to be mollified. 

"It's Rick. He left us in charge. If I'm gone and he's gone, you're all that's left watchin' these people." 

"God damn it," you sighed, knowing he was right. 

"You know they can't watch themselves," Daryl added, twisting the knife in even further. 

"Fine," you snarled at him. "Fine! I'll stay. We'll ask for volunteers for the driving teams." 

Daryl nodded, and the two of you went over to the group. 

"Ok guys," you said conversationally. "We've got a plan we worked out with Rick. It's going to take some doing, but we'll be in a really good place if we can get all this done. We need two teams of two, plus Maggie and Glenn." 

"I'll get them," Beth offered, and you smiled at her in thanks. She ran off toward the house and Lori frowned at you. 

"What are these teams going to be doing?" she asked, her voice a bit of an accusation. After your talk with Rick, he had grabbed Shane and left in a hurry. You'd watched him brush past Lori without saying goodbye, and you'd wondered about that. But as he hustled Shane into the car, you had seen the way Lori watched not only Rick but Deputy Assface too, and you wondered if maybe that was the source of contention. If these people didn't sort their relationship drama out, there was gonna be a big problem down the line. 

"Drivin'," Daryl took over and you couldn't have been more grateful. He gave you a look and smile, knowing you'd been doing more leading and talking than you were comfortable with in the last few days. He started explaining, then said he'd be going on the bike for one. 

"I'll go with you," Andrea volunteered-- who was surprised?-- and Daryl just grunted at her. 

"Carol and I can drop off the truck. That's the closest one, right?" Lori said quietly. "Then we'll be right back." 

You nodded. Good, that would keep her out of the way, but close enough to be safe. 

"That's everyone then," you said. "Good. Here's thing. No more than six hours, you guys. I mean it. If anyone is gone more than six, I will come find you. And I'll kill you myself." 

You deliberately didn't look at Daryl as you spoke, but you felt the brush of his hand on yours. You watched Andrea's eye twitch. Oh. Maybe she hadn't figured it out yet. Ha ha. That'll be a fun ride for Daryl.

"Alright," Lori nodded, and went over to Carl. You could see them arguing, Carl gesturing angrily, and you guessed she was telling him to stay behind. 

"A'ight, Barbie, let's go," Daryl drawled and you held in a chuckle. That nickname was his version of a sappy goodbye. Knowing how you both were with emotions, it was him telling you he knew how she was but didn't care. You appreciated it, but it just wasn't enough for you. It had been a hell of a few days, and now you were going to be stuck here while he was out there.... 

He started to walk away, but you grabbed his arm. 

"Daryl..." you said quietly, not caring about the looks they were giving you. He glanced around at the group once, and you tried not to let that twist into your heart. Then he locked eyes with Andrea, over your shoulder, swung his crossbow to his back, and grabbed your other hand. 

He pulled you up against him, finally looking down and meeting your eyes. "I'm comin' back, woman," he growled. 

And then he hauled you up on your toes and crushed his mouth to yours, right there in front of everyone, and kissed you till your knees got weak. 

That flash of hurt when he'd looked around evaporated. It was only the third time you'd kissed-- Hershel had kicked you out of Daryl's room shortly after Carol had come, and you'd been moving non stop solving problems ever since, it seemed. And now, here you were, and he was holding you to him and marking you as his. 

Marking him, even more, as yours. 

Then just as suddenly, it was over. He pulled away, winked at you-- seriously, Dixon?-- and walked away, while you stood there, in a daze. 

T Dog let out a wolf whistle. 

Daryl turned impatiently and yelled, "Let's go!" 

Andrea walked past you without a word, swinging onto the back of Daryl's bike, and then he was gone, and you were still standing here. 

"Damn, Dixon," you whispered. Then jerked your shoulders and got back into motion. You turned to where Lori and Carl were staring at you now instead of arguing with each other. You jogged over to them quickly. 

"Wow," Lori said simply when you got to her side. "So... How long has that been....?" 

You gave her a clear shut up look. "Not long, but we really don't have time for that right now. Listen, can I keep Carl while you're gone? I've got a list of things I need to get done here, and I could use some hands. If Carl will help me, that is," you added, turning to look him in the eye. 

He grinned up at you, nodding. "Can I, Mom?" he asked Lori, and she nodded. 

"Of course, baby. Be good. Carol and I will be back soon," she added, and hugged him to her, mouthing a thank you over his head. 

"Cool, thanks. Carl, I've got to talk to Glenn and Maggie," you said, seeing Beth coming back with them. "While I get them going, why don't you carry that pack over to Daryl's truck for your mom? Then come find me and we'll get started, ok bud?" 

He nodded and ran off, and you turned and updated the last two. Once you had seen them off, it was time to get to your tasks. 

"Alright, Carl," you said as he fell into step with you. "We've got three things that need to be done before they all get back. First, we have to get this camp broken down the rest of the way and moved in closer. Dale and T Dog are going to take turns on watch and help us. It shouldn't be too bad, but that's the biggest one. Next," you continued, slinging an arm over his shoulders absently as the two of you moved rapidly toward you and Daryl's camp. "We've got to find a new spot to build the watch perch. And then T Dog will be building it. He may want your help with that, too; we'll have to ask. It's going to need to have clear sight lines throughout the farm and as far around as we can get. I'm thinking tree. Yeah," you said with a decisive nod. "Definitely a tree. Right?" 

Carl nodded up at you. "Yeah, that's probably best. We find a good one and I can climb up; check the sight lines." 

You grinned at him. "That's why I wanted you to come along, my man," you told him. 

"So you weren't just saying that to stop me from arguing with Mom?" he asked quietly, and you stopped walking. 

Crouching down so you could look him in the eye, you met his serious expression head-on. "No, I wasn't. I meant it; I have too much shit to do today to do all on my own. I need your help. Everyone's scattered around right now, so everyone has to pitch in." 

He nodded, and you could see him stand a little straighter at your words. 

"Ok, bud. Number three, and arguably one of the most important, is that we need to talk to Hershel. For starters, he probably wants to kick us off his land, and we want to convince him otherwise. More than that, what we really need is for him to let us into the house. We can't afford to not be behind walls if they're there. Grab that pack over there, would you, and my bow and quiver, ok? I've gotta break this tent down quickly." 

Your hands moved as you talked, and kept one eye on Carl loading up yours and Daryl's clothes from the line.  
"Thanks, sweetheart," you said, and then winced. "Hey, Carl?" 

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at you curiously. 

"I just wanted to ask-- is it ok that I keep calling you by pet names? Like bud or sweetheart, I mean. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything," you said seriously. You knew how hard it was to be a kid surrounded by adults, especially a kid who wasn't really a kid anymore, and you'd seen how everyone else treated him.  
You watched him consider before turning back to the task at hand, sliding the last of the poles into the tent bag. 

"No..." he said slowly. "I don't mind. It's different from when everyone else does it, even mom and dad. It's like when Daryl calls you 'woman', I guess," he said, startling you into looking back over at him. 

You swung the tent up onto your back and grabbed your rifle, taking your pack full of clothes from Carl. Carl had your bow and quiver on his back and looked too pleased for you to take them from him. The two of you started back toward Hershel's house. 

"What do you mean?" you asked him. It was an astute observation, and you wanted to see just how intelligent a kid he was. 

"Well, when the others call me kiddo or something, it usually means they aren't listening to me, or they're about to tell me I can't do something. Even my parents. I know they love me and all, but everyone here sees me as just a kid. And I'm not," he finished, and you saw his jaw clench. 

"You're right; you're not," you agreed, and he looked over at you with a smile. 

"That's what I mean. It doesn't sound like that from you. It just sounds.... nice," he finished with a shrug, and you slung your arm back around his shoulders. 

"Well, I'm glad, kid. But what does that have to do with Dixon calling me 'woman'?" 

Carl laughed. "It's like when you call him 'Dixon', too. Doesn't sound the same as when other people do it. When Uncle Shane...." he trailed off for a moment and then stopped walking. You stopped too, and turned to face him. 

He looked at the ground for a long moment before meeting your eyes. 

"Shane should never have tried to hurt you, and I'm sorry," he declared, and to your shock you felt yourself tear up. 

"Kid..." you muttered, and pulled him into a hug. "You don't have to be sorry for that. Shane did something wrong, yes," you said, pulling back and looking into his eyes again, "but it's nothing for you to apologize for. And please, don't stop calling him Uncle Shane because of me. Don't let what he's done wrong take away who he is to you. It's ok to love someone even if they've done bad things." 

This time, to both of your dismay, it was Carl's eyes that watered. He brushed them off roughly with his sleeve and nodded his head once. 

"Anyway," he mumbled as you kept walking. "When Uncle Shane calls you or any of the others 'girl' or 'sweetheart' or 'darling'... it just sounds... mean." 

He looked up at you to see if you understood and you nodded, so he shrugged. "When Daryl calls you 'woman'.... it's like he's saying your the only one. The only woman who matters." 

You stopped walking again and stared at Carl. "Where did you get that, kid?" you asked, shocked. 

He just shrugged. "It's just how it sounds," he said simply, and you shook your head and kept walking.


	10. Famous Final Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major character death  
> cannon-typical violence  
> cannon divergence

Six hours may not seem like long, but it stretched into eternity when you were worried about so many things. 

Between you, Carl, and T Dog, you had the camp broken down and moved up to the house. You didn't pitch the tents again or set anything up, because you were determined to convince Hershel to let you into the house. 

T Dog was collecting spare wood with Hershel and Jimmy, the younger girl's boyfriend. Beth and Patricia were in the house, doing whatever, and Dale was on watch.

Two hours down. Four to go. 

You and Carl were wandering the property, looking for the right place to put a platform. So far, you hadn't found the right thing, and you were getting impatient. 

But watching Carl, you couldn't help but grin. He was practically skipping beside you, chattering about anything and everything that crossed his mind-- from walkers to guns to his favorite foods to his third grade teacher and how the best thing ever was that he didn't have school anymore. You had laughed a lot at that one. It was nice to see him so... free. 

Three hours down. Halfway there. 

There was a crack from the woods to your left, and you had your bow up and moving even as you snapped at Carl to get behind you. You glanced over to make sure he was doing as he was told, and he had, but his gun was in his hand and his grip was rock steady. You gave him a nod, and started toward the woods. 

"If it's a walker, let me handle it if I can," you whispered as he moved with you. "Don't fire unless you have to. We didn't tell everyone because we didn't want a panic, but there's a herd heading this way. That's why we're doin' all this prep. Use your knife if you can. If there's too many--" you cut off, swinging your bow around as you heard noises from either side of you. 

"If there's too many, Carl," you looked him in the eyes, wanting to be sure he would grasp how serious you were. "Go. Run, as fast as you can, back to camp. As soon as you get close, get help. But stay as quiet as you can and if I say run, you run." 

His eyes were wide, and he started to argue, but you just kept your eyes steady on him until he nodded. "Ok. I will." 

You nodded back and moved forward into the trees. Then you froze, throwing your hand up to stop Carl from moving forward. There, in the trees. There were six of them. 

You were pretty sure you could handle it on your own, but not with Carl to take care of. 

"Run," you hissed to him. "Run, Carl, now! I've got this; I'll be right behind you in a few minutes. Now, go!" You snapped, and he stared, eyes wide. 

"Go, damn it!" you yelled, as the six walkers started toward you. 

He went, finally, turning and running back the way you had come. You felt yourself smiling as you turned back to face the six ugly bastards coming out of the trees. 

"Well then..." you said to them conversationally. "How are you today, gentleman? Oh, and lady," you nodded to the one in a torn up dress. "Shall we dance?" you whispered finally, drawing an arrow back and letting it fly at the closest one. 

You took him right between the eyes, and didn't stop to watch him fall. You pulled another arrow, drew smoothly, and released again, taking down number two with ease. 

But the others were too close on you then, and you dropped your bow to the ground, pulling your knife from its sheath. Number three went down with your blade in its temple, holding it at arms length as you twisted out of the way of number four's reaching arms. You kicked out with one leg, pulling the knife from number three and spinning with the momentum of your kick. 

Number four staggered back and you ducked around number five. You slid your knife up under number five's chin and then you stopped even keeping track of what was happening, because you were too busy wondering where they were all coming from. There were suddenly way more than six, and your body was too busy for your brain to process what you were doing. 

It was just blood and gore, weaving between grasping arms and avoiding teeth. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you could hear yourself muttering, over and over like a prayer. Whatever, it was working so far. 

And then a shot rang out, and the walker coming up on you dropped. 

"Don't fire, damn it!" you screamed out, not knowing who it was and not particularly caring. 

Someone yelled something back at you that you were too busy to really hear and more shots kept coming. 

Then, just as suddenly as it all started, it was over. You stood, chest heaving as you tried to replace the oxygen you'd lost in the fight, and surveyed the damage. 

There were twenty walkers on the ground. 

Holy shit. 

Six of them had bullet holes, two had your arrows, and the rest.... The rest had been all you. 

God damn, were you a badass, or what? New personal record! 

Dale and T Dog were staring at you, shocked, (had you said all that out loud? You didn't think so...) and Carl was with them, white as a sheet but grinning at you. 

"Who the hell was shootin'?" you demanded. 

Dale and T both looked at you like you were crazy. 

"You were surrounded," T said slowly. "Isn't that what we were supposed to do?" 

You took a deep breath through your nose, trying not to lose your temper in the post-adrenaline void. It wasn't their fault; you hadn't warned them about the horde. 

"Ok," you muttered, running your hands through your hair before you thought, smearing zombie guts all through it. "Ok. Damn it. Here goes. Guys, there's a horde coming," you said bluntly. 

Dale and T Dog jerked. "How big?" Dale asked at the same time T Dog said, "How long?" 

You gestured them both into silence. "Too big; and not long. Probably less now, after the noise. Thanks for the save, you guys, seriously," you added, realizing you probably hadn't said that yet. "We gotta get out of here, though." 

You turned and walked through the bodies to grab your arrows. Dale followed you. 

"YN, what are we going to do about this horde? There's no way we can--" 

His words died in a scream. 

You whirled around in shock, but it was too late. Sound faded to nothing in your ears, even with Carl and T Dog screaming, Dale screaming, and from the feeling in your throat, you were screaming, too, but you couldn't hear it. 

The walker had moved fast and quiet, coming out of the woods without you even knowing it. And now he was chewing on your friend's neck. 

It was awful. Dale was looking at you, and you could swear in with the fear you could see in his eyes, there was blame. 

Your legs carried you forward without any orders from a brain that was too busy wailing in anguish. 

Not again, not again, not again, not again--

The walker fell dead at your feet and you caught Dale as he collapsed, easing him to the ground. 

Then T Dog and Carl were at your side, the three of you crowded over Dale, as he bled out in your arms. Dale's hand came up, clenching into your shirt, his eyes fixed on yours and pleading. 

You couldn't hear what the others were saying behind the static repetition in your brain (not again, not again, not again), but even as you cried, you brought your knife up and into the base of his skull in one smooth motion. 

Just like that, the world snapped back into focus. 

It was the silence that did it, broken only by the sound of Carl sobbing. You turned to him and he threw himself into your arms, clinging to you just as much as you were to him. 

Your hands were red. And wet.


	11. Is This Fucking Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shock, guilt, emotional trauma

Carl had your bow. 

Dale's blood covered your hands, your shirt, your hair. 

Dale's blood was everywhere. 

 

Someone was talking to you, but you couldn't hear them. 

Dale's eyes were-- Dale's eyes-- 

Dale--

 

"Come on, YN! Come on!" T Dog's voice was frantic. Carl was pulling at your hands, urging you to walk, but you weren't sure how to move. How to think. 

How could this have happened again? 

Faces flashed in front of you, of the people in the group you were with before, your family, your friends--

Dale. 

T Dog was carrying Dale, you realized. 

And Carl had your bow. 

You hated yourself for thinking about your bow right now. 

You looked down at your hands and they were covered with blood. Carl had a hold of one and was urging you along, moving as fast as they could back toward camp. 

With Dale. 

 

"YN! YN! YN!" 

You looked up in a daze from where you'd been concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Your mind felt clouded, coated in tar; you couldn't focus. 

Shock, your brain supplied ironically. You were in shock. 

But you didn't-- you couldn't-- there wasn't time for you to be in shock. 

Your eyes focused. You were halfway across the field, nearly back from the bloody battle that had cost you Dale.

Dale-- Mom-- Dad-- friends-- walkers-- God damn it, focus! 

Daryl was running toward you, full sprint, and then he was there, and his eyes were wild as he said your name, over and over, hands brushing over your arms, your neck, looking you over frantically. 

Oh. He thought you were hurt. 

You should really tell him you were fine. 

"She's fine," Carl said quietly beside you. 

Damn, you really liked that kid. 

"She's covered in blood, and she ain't respondin'. What the hell happened?" Daryl growled at him, holding your shoulders and staring into your eyes. 

"D-- Daryl," you stuttered out. "Dale. It's Dale. Oh my God, it's Dale." 

You couldn't breathe. 

Something the size of a mountain was sitting on your lungs and you couldn't draw in any air and why were they just letting you be crushed and--

Oh my God. Dale. 

Daryl pulled you to him, his arms locked around you, holding you tight and telling you to breathe, just breathe, in and out, in and out, over and over. 

And then you could breathe again. You were breathing. You hadn't forgotten how. Ok. Ok. Ok. 

Shock fucking sucks. 

"Yeah, darlin' it does. I know," Daryl said, pulling back enough to look in your eyes, and his lips were twitching. "If you're crackin' jokes, you're comin' out of it though." 

Oh. You had said that out loud. Ok, come on, now this is just ridiculous. Snap out of it. It's not like you haven't been through this before; you are stronger than this, damn it. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know; you ain't a victim. I'm carryin' ya the rest of the way anyway," Daryl growled as he scooped you into his arms. "Now shut up, and let T Dog tell me what happened." 

Oh. Well. You could do that. 

You closed your eyes and just enjoyed being pressed against Daryl's chest as he carried you back to camp. You tried to block out T and Carl's words as they told him about it.

About Dale. 

About how you failed. 

"Twenty walkers? By herself?" Daryl's voice was sharp. Crap, he was pissed. But he shouldn't snap like that at Carl. 

You pulled your eyes open with effort. 

"It was only six when I told Carl to run," you said, and this time you could hear your own voice. 

"You're still an idiot," Daryl snarled at you, his grip tightening for a moment. 

Oh yeah. He was carrying you. 

"Can-- Can you put me down, please?" you asked him seriously. He stopped walking and looked at you. 

"I'm ok, now. Really," you said, touching his face. You were surprised to find you meant it. "Exhausted. Probably traumatized, but it's hardly the first time. But I'm ok, and-- well, I'd really like to walk." 

He nodded and set you on your feet, but he pulled you into his arms immediately and buried his face in your hair. 

Ugh, your hair. The walker blood.

"God, don't do that!" you cried, pushing him away. "I'm covered in blood, and-- well, other stuff." 

"I don't care. You scared the shit out of me, woman," Daryl said, and pressed a kiss to your lips with a shaky sigh. "Come on, we gotta get Dale back to camp." 

He grabbed your hand and urged you into a walk. T Dog and Carl had gone ahead when you stopped, covering the rest of the distance to where Andrea, Hershel, Beth, Jimmy, Patricia, and oh god, Lori and Carol too were waiting. 

Andrea was sobbing, and you felt guilt twist deep in your heart sharper than any knife could. 

"Hey," Daryl said, watching you. "It's not your fault." 

"Yes, it is," you whispered. "I didn't-- I didn't even hear the walker. I let my guard down for one minute, just one, and--" you cut off, shaking your head. 

"Naw," Daryl said. "They told me how it went. They told me how many you took out on your own. Don't think I ain't pissed about that still, cause I am, and we gonna fight about it later, woman! But they both saw it, they know. It just came outta nowhere. It wasn't your fault. This ain't on you." 

You nodded, accepting his words even if you didn't believe them. 

Dale's death was on you, and no one could tell you otherwise.


	12. Good A Night As Any

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character death  
> cannon-typical violence  
> cannon divergence

You buried Dale. 

And you hated yourself for your irritation at the way Andrea glared at you now. Even if no one else did, she blamed you for Dale. 

That was fine, because you blamed yourself too. 

Rick and Shane had both come back from their drive. Their faces were bruised and bloodied, and you didn't for a moment think that it was over between them. Or between you and Shane. 

But you buried Dale. 

Between Dale and the news of the herd that was coming, even closer already than Rick had thought, Hershel could hardly keep you outside any longer. Maggie and   
Glenn had cleaned out the town as much as possible, and in the living room of Hershel's house, Lori, Carol, Andrea, and Hershel's women were packing your bags, following the lists you'd laid out. 

You didn't know where Daryl was, though he'd hardly left your side since he came sprinting over the field earlier that day. He had taken you into Hershel's bathroom while the others yelled about Dale and argued about what to do about the herd, snarling when Rick tried to talk to you. He'd cleaned the blood off your face and hands and held you like he was afraid you would turn to dust if he let you go, before telling you to strip and get in the shower. 

When you had pulled the blood and gut-soaked tank over your head and let it fall from your fingers without a thought, he had turned bright red and snapped at you to wait until he left. 

Then he'd left you alone to stand under the spray, until the water ran cold but clear and you realized you were shivering. He'd knocked on the door just as you shut the water off and wrapped yourself in a towel, miserable and dripping and still a little, it seemed, in shock. He'd handed you clean clothes, including the flannel shirt you'd grabbed the day he got shot. 

It wasn't soaked in his blood anymore, so someone had washed it. 

It didn't smell like him, either. 

You cuddled into his shirt now, perched on the rail of the porch and staring into the darkness. Laughter and light spilled out from the house as the door opened behind you. 

"YN?" Carl asked nervously. 

You turned to him with a smile. "Hey, kid," you said softly. You owed him big and you knew it, after your freak out in the field. Things had gone to hell, and you'd just gone into shock on him. 

"I grabbed this for you." Carl held your bow in his hands, holding it out to you, and you felt like someone had grabbed your heart and squeezed. 

"Thanks," you said softly, taking it and running a finger along the grip. "Carl... I'm so sorry." 

He tipped his head at you a little. "Why?" he sounded incredulous, like he didn't think you had anything to be sorry for. 

"For going into shock like that. After-- after Dale. I shouldn't have-- you were my responsibility. And you're not just a kid, but you are still a kid. I was the adult. I should have been there for you. Hell, you've known Dale longer than I have, and there you were, making sure I got back while I was just..." you trailed off, shaking your head at yourself. "Anyway. I'm sorry, bud." 

"Don't be," Carl said, shuffling a little closer to you. You slid your hip off the railing and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into you a little, just for a moment, then pulled away. 

"I couldn't have done what you did," he said. "Knifing him like that. He was-- he was going to die, and turn, and I knew he didn't want that. But I couldn't have done it. And you took out all those walkers. You're kind of a badass," he laughed, grinning at you. You just shook your head at him with a fond smile, flicking the brim of his dad's hat. 

"But don't be sorry. It's ok." He said seriously, and you nodded. 

"Thanks, kid. And thanks for grabbing this," you tipped your bow in his direction. 

"My dad's out there in the field," he said. "I was heading to get him. Wanna come?" 

"Does your mom know you're going?" you asked. 

He scowled at you. 

"What? You're awesome and all, bud, but I ain't crossin' your mama," you teased. He sighed.

"Yeah, she knows." 

"Alright," you said. "Go on then, but stay close. I'm going to stay here. Climb up on the RV and at least be able to keep an eye on things, since we never did find us a good watch tree." 

He flashed you another grin, then went off down the steps. 

You waited a moment, then turned to look into the house. You could see into the living room windows, to where your people were smiling and talking as they sorted through everyone's stuff. The medical bag was finished, and you could see about three of the personal gear bags had been made, but that was about all there were supplies for. One of the personal bags was yours, the pack you'd been carrying since you hit that outdoor sports store before you left Atlanta with your first group. 

It was a pity Maggie and Glenn hadn't found any hydration packs in town, but that had been a bit of a pipe dream anyway. 

You thought about just going to the RV without letting anyone know, but that was how people got into trouble these days. Besides, your quiver and your gun were still in there in a pile with the rest of your stuff. So you braced yourself and moved back into the house. 

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go take watch on the RV," you said as you walked into the room. 

Andrea turned away from you, even though she was the closest to where you'd come in, and stayed silent. Lori and Carol smiled at you. 

"That sounds great, YN, but you don't have to," Lori said. "T Dog can go. You've been through a lot today." 

Everyone ignored Andrea's snort. 

You shook your head, grabbing your gun and quiver from the pile. Once your quiver and bow were secured on your back, you grabbed your bag from the finished pile of gear. 

"That's ok," you answered her. "I won't sleep tonight anyway. Too much adrenaline. Besides, what T did-- bringing Dale back here... Well, he probably needs a break more than I do." 

You made your escape quickly, moving through the cool darkness in blessed silence. Once on the RV, you tipped your face into the breeze and let out a sigh of relief. 

Lori had practically smothered you with gratitude for keeping Carl safe. Rick had tried to do the same, and Hershel and his people had been all over you with expressions of thanks for defending the farm. After the third thank you, you had been ready to scream and claw someone's eyes out. The silence of a Georgia night was what you needed to clear the last of the fog-- and grief-- from your mind. 

Even knowing Officer Overly-Friendly was zip-tied in the RV below you didn't stop this from being exactly where you wanted to be. 

The wind pulled a strand of hair out of your braid, and you almost dismissed the movement in the corner of your eye as more of the same. But something told you to look, so you did. 

"Holy shit. Shit!" You were scrambling back down the ladder in a heartbeat, urgency making you almost slip. You dropped the last bit to the ground and flung open the door. Shane glared up at you. 

"The hell do you want?" he sneered, and you couldn't help but enjoy the way he cracked the scab on his split lip when he spoke. 

"Shut the fuck up, just shut up," you snapped, pulling your knife from your belt and cutting the ties off his hands. "The damn herd's comin'. Come on, we gotta get to the house." 

Instantly he was all business. You both lit out of the RV, crouching and booking it to the porch and inside. 

"Everybody, kill the lights and shut up!" you hissed. "Grab your weapons and your gear, let's go. Herd's coming!" 

Everyone started scurrying. You were already back out the door, on the porch, Shane behind you. 

"I need a damn gun!" Shane hissed as you watched the walkers just keep pouring out of the woods. 

"Son of a bitch," you muttered, and handed him your rifle. "You better not shoot me or anybody else alive, asshole." 

"What do we do?" The others were out on the porch now, watching with you. 

"Maybe they'll just pass, like the herd on the highway," Glenn offered. "Should we just go inside?" 

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about," Daryl drawled from right behind you, and something in you relaxed at his voice. He touched your back, just once, so you knew he was there. "Herd that size'll rip the house down." 

"He's right," you agreed, looking over your shoulder. "This is what we planned for, people. Just sooner than we'd hoped. Grab the gear, head for the cars--" 

"You can go if you want," Hershel's steady voice came. 

"What, you gonna take them all on? I got the number, ain't no use," Daryl snapped. 

"We have guns. We have cars. This is my farm," the old man said. 

Damn it. Stubborn bastard was going to get us all killed. 

Then it hit you. 

"Son of a bitch!" you said, louder than you should have. Too loud. 

"The hell, girl?" Shane snapped, and as you felt Daryl twitch toward him, you intervened. 

"Carl," you said, and that got everyone's attention. "He went out to find Rick!" 

Lori gasped. "He's supposed to be upstairs!" 

You whirled, angry. "He said you knew!" 

She just stared between you and the herd, eyes wide. Behind you came the steady sound of Shane muttering profanities. You met Daryl's eyes, and he nodded. 

"Alright then," you said, thinking hard and fast. "Kill as many as we can. Hold the house as long as we can. We'll get a few people to use the cars to lead the rest of the farm. Daryl, Shane, Andrea, Glenn, Maggie," you said. "Let's hit the cars. Everyone who stays here, be ready to run if you need to. I don't want any fucking heroes tonight." 

Everyone nodded, except Hershel. "This is my farm. I'll die here," he said bluntly. 

Oh you did not have time for this. You started to argue, but Daryl just shrugged, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you down the porch. 

"It's as good a night as any," he called as you went. 

 

You were clinging to him on the back of the motorcycle. His gun was in one of your hands, at the ready, and you both had your bows along your backs, but you couldn't exactly draw and aim a bow from the back of a motorcycle. 

The others were in some of the vehicles, including-- and weren't you pissed about this one-- Jimmy driving the RV. You were in the field, starting to get their attention, when the barn went up in flames. 

"Holy shit," you muttered. "Dixon! Rick!" you called to Daryl and he nodded. 

He pulled up to the fence and both of you started firing. Shane was leaning out the pickup window shooting as Andrea drove, and Maggie and Glenn were teamed up in another car. The air filled with bullets and smoke, and you tapped Daryl's shoulder. 

He pulled the bike over to the RV, and you started yelling to Jimmy. 

"It must have been Rick that started that fire! He may be trying to get out the back; circle around!" you screamed over the sounds of the gunshots and the dead. The kid nodded and took off, and you and Daryl were moving again. 

You caught sight of Glenn, all the way out the window, firing the shotgun over and over again. Shane was a demon in a truck, firing with one hand and swinging a machete (what the hell?) with the other. 

"Dixon," you called. "It's lost! Head back toward the house; we've gotta help the others get out!" 

He turned the bike and headed back the way he had come, just in time for you to see Lori, T Dog, and Beth piled into one of Hershel's trucks. 

Hershel stood, using a shotgun to try to keep the dead from his home, but it was no use. 

The truck peeled out, heading toward one of your exit points, and you saw Carol, alone, surrounded by the walkers. 

"Daryl! I've gotta get her!" you called to him, and before he could tell you no, you hurdled from the bike and rolled, springing to your feet and running. 

Your knife was in your hand, but speed was you real friend in this mess, and you dodged, spun, and outran until you reached Carol's side. 

"Come on!" you called to her, grabbing her arm and heading toward the lights from Daryl's bike. He was in motion, staying ahead of the walkers that seemed to have taken over the world in the chaos. 

You took down one with your knife that got too close, pushing Carol ahead of you, determined to get her there. There was an opening in the crowd and you shoved her through it. 

"Go! Get to Daryl!" you screamed, and she took off running. He saw her, swooping in on the bike, and as you kept fighting, you saw her get on; saw him searching the crowd of walkers for you, screaming your name. 

But staying alive meant moving away from him, and you did, knowing he would be fine. The next chance you had to look, you could see them driving away. 

There was one more vehicle left near the house, and you were determined to get Hershel in it and stay alive yourself. You fought your way back to where he was, and you were almost there when you realized there were no more exits. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" you were yelling again, out of arrows and bloody to your elbows from using you knife. You found the place where the group was thinnest and started trying to fight your way through, but this was it. 

You were done, and you knew it. 

Guess this really was as good a night to die as any.


	13. Well Look at That, We're Still Alive- Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> character death

A gunshot rang out, damn near deafening you, but since it took out a walker right over your shoulder you were hardly going to complain. 

"YN!" Rick's voice called, and then he and Carl were there beside you, and for some reason you were grinning. 

"Hey, cowboy!" you yelled to him. "Let's grab the farmer and then we have to go!" 

Rick nodded and the three of forced the rest of the way to Hershel. Behind the crazy old man was the last vehicle on the damn farm, and you only hoped someone had put the keys in the ignition like you had all discussed. 

"Hershel! Come on! We've got to go!" Rick was screaming, but Hershel was just reloading his gun even as the horde streamed toward him. 

"Lori! Did you see Lori?" Rick asked as you reached his side. 

You answered for Hershel. "She's gone; she's out. Come on, Rick!" 

"They just keep coming," Hershel said. "It's like a plague, they're everywhere!"

"We have to go! Find Mom and the others," Rick said, grabbing Hershel by the collar and starting toward the beat up SUV. 

"It's my farm!" Hershel yelled. 

"Not any more!" you snapped, shoving Hershel after Rick. 

Two more down as they got too close, then all of you were piled in, Rick in the driver's seat and Hershel in the passenger, you and Carl in the back. You were breathing hard, soaked in blood and sweat again. 

Somehow, you still had your bow, even if you were out of arrows, and you had the emergency pack, your old one, that you had grabbed before going on watch. 

And you had a plan. 

No matter what exit route the group had to take, you would meet back at the highway, where they'd left supplies for Sophia. 

Carl made a small noise beside you in the darkness of the truck, one you recognized as trying desperately to hold in tears, and you scooted over on the seat and pulled him against your side. 

He buried his face in your shoulder and you felt him shaking as he cried. 

You met Rick's gaze in the mirror and nodded at his wordless thanks, rubbing soothing circles over Carl's back. 

"It's gonna be ok, bud," you whispered to him. 

 

You made it there just as the sun came up. Rick took a pretty twisty path, trying to hide where you were coming from. He'd taken your warning about the presence of other people, dangerous people, seriously. 

You'd dozed in the car as he drove, and Carl had slept. Sometime during the drive, when he'd cried himself out, he'd taken your suggestion and curled up on the seat with his head in your lap. He clutched his hat in one hand, but you'd gently pulled the pistol from the other, and he'd let you. 

After he fell asleep, Rick had filled you in on what had happened to them-- Carl found him in the field, they had argued about Shane, then Rick had seen the walkers. They'd run for the barn, setting the fire and escaping out the back of the hayloft, and Jimmy had died in the RV, providing them a way down. 

You had told him everything you saw, including Daryl getting away with Carol and the truck with T Dog, Beth, and Lori. None of you had known about Shane and Andrea or Maggie and Glenn, but you hoped they'd gotten out. 

Now you were waiting by the supplies, and Hershel was asking you to take Carl and get him somewhere safe while he waited for the others. 

"We're not splittin' up," Rick argued, and you agreed. "They'll be here." 

"You don't know that," Hershel said, and you wanted to scream at them both. But there had been a herd of walkers here before, and you had to keep quiet. So you busied yourself packing the supplies you'd left for Sofia into your gear bag while Rick snapped at Hershel. 

"You're a man of God! Have some faith!" 

 

You dispatched a few random walkers while you waited, but Hershel was getting nervous, and he was getting to Rick. 

Rick knelt down to start talking to Carl about it being unsafe, and how you couldn't wait any longer when you heard it. 

The unmistakable sound of Daryl's motorcycle. 

You sprang from your crouch and jumped onto the hood of a nearby car, watching with a grin as first Daryl and his bike, then T Dog's truck load, Glenn and Maggie in their car, and finally, almost impossibly, Shane's truck came into view. 

Daryl saw you first, and he tossed his head back and laughed that wide open, joyous sound you had heard that first day on the road. Carol was off the back of his bike and running over to your group before Daryl had stopped, and Lori was out of the truck and Carl was leaping into her arms. Beth and Maggie and Hershel were a huge pile of love, and Daryl-- 

Oh god, the look in his eyes as he came for you. 

You waited where you were, standing on the hood of a car, one hand shading your eyes and the other on your hip as he set the kickstand and swung off the bike. 

Then he was walking to you, and it wasn't the panicked run from the field when he thought you were hurt; it was something else. Something dangerous. Something--

Well, something fuckin' hot. 

There was heat, and fear, and the promise of a good screaming fight about what you'd done in his eyes and his walk; and it was like the world slowed down, and nothing else existed but him. 

And then he reached you. 

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you down and into him, pinning you back against the car and caging you with his arms. 

"The hell kinda stunt was that, woman?" he growled, and then his mouth was on yours and he was crushing you against him and you were boosting yourself up to wrap your legs around his waist and your fingers were in his hair, and -- 

Oh, God, the fear, the worry you didn't even know existed deep within, fear that he wouldn't make it after all-- or maybe fear that you hadn't; that you had died somewhere on that farm and this was all a dream- it evaporated into that kiss, and you realized you were crying, tears just pouring down your cheeks as the two of you kissed like you were trying to reach each other's souls, right there in the hot Georgia sun.


	14. This Ain't a Democracy Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a filler chapter; fluff and rest for the reader

You were curled against Daryl, back against his chest. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, his chin on your shoulder, and the other arm propped on his knee. You were running your fingers absently over the muscle in his arm, staring into the small fire your group had allowed. The twelve of you were huddled in the broken-down walls of a long abandoned structure. 

Everyone looked cold and scared. 

It had been a full day of driving, people piled in practically on top of each other to try to save fuel by taking as few vehicles as possible. You and Daryl had been in the lead, whipping through the empty roads with the wind in your hair and your arms around him. You had never felt so gloriously free. At some point, he had taken one hand off the handlebars and brought it to where yours were around his waist, and you'd pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, content. 

There had been a lot of talking, trading stories and hugs and tears, before you had gotten on the road. Glenn and Maggie had gone one way, to the getaway car they had placed, and brought back the supplies and fuel from it. T Dog, Lori, and Beth had gone to the other, the one furthest away, and done the same. Everyone had waited a few hours, to make sure no one else came, then headed to the rendezvous. 

"See Rick?" you had muttered, bumping his shoulder lightly. "Planing is good!" 

He and Lori and Carl had all laughed. Your eyes had lingered on Daryl, who had been making room in the saddlebags of his motorcycle to store more supplies.   
He and Carol hadn't been able to get away on one of the predetermined paths. They had traveled the most, eventually meeting up with Maggie and Glenn on their way back from their getaway car. 

"I saw these headlights swervin' all over the road," Daryl had teased, clapping Glenn on the shoulder. "Figured the driver had to be Asian." 

Everyone had laughed again, including Glenn; the feeling of relief palpable. 

Shane was the last to share his story, and you looked over at him now where he sat a little apart from the others, back against the remains of a wall. 

"Do we believe him?" you asked Daryl softly. 

He snorted. "Hell no. You know as well as I do, Andrea was drivin' the damn truck last we saw them. So how the hell was she the one to jump out and try to get to Rick?" 

Andrea had been lost on the farm. Shane had told some story, about her jumping out to find Rick and Carl; how Shane had tried to stop her, but he saw her go down with a walker on top of her, and had to book it out of there. People had muttered, but Rick had nodded, determined to believe the best of Shane despite everything. 

Carl had turned away from Shane with a sneer when Shane tried to give him a hug, and your heart hurt at the sight. The boy was so angry at the man who had once been an uncle to him; who may be the father of his little brother or sister. You wished something could heal that rift, but Carl had wandered over to sit on the hood of the car beside you, and well.... Shane had sneered and turned away. 

Sometime after the relief at finding so many of each other alive had worn off, the arguing started. Because of course, this group couldn't do anything without arguing first. They blamed Rick for losing the farm, for the disaster at the CDC; hell, Carol even started to blame Rick for Sofia again.

And Rick had lost it. 

Frankly, you were impressed. You didn't know that man had that amount of crazy rage in him. 

You and Daryl stood there, on either side of Rick, as he railed at the group. 

"Maybe you people are better off without me! Go ahead!" He paced like a crazy person, flinging his hands up in wild gestures. "I say there's a place for us, but maybe- maybe it's just another pipe dream, maybe I'm foolin' myself again. Why don't you go and find out yourself? Send me a postcard," he snarled, up in Lori's face. She flinched back a little and Shane started toward Rick. 

Oh for God's sake, not that again. 

But Rick wasn't done. "Go on, there's the door," he said, whirling to gesture at the road around you. "You can do better? Let's see how far you get." He looked at everyone in turn, and they dropped their eyes. All except Shane, who held his look steadily with an unimpressed gaze, but didn't challenge him. 

"No takers? Fine," Rick snapped. "But let's get one thing straight. You're staying? Well, then this isn't a democracy anymore." 

No one had moved for the longest time, staring at Rick in shock. But your smart mouth couldn't handle it, and you found yourself doing a slow clap. 

Rick spun and looked at you, his eyes crazy, and you held your hands up in a gesture of peace. 

"That was a good speech, Cowboy, and I mean that," you said, sauntering forward to his side. "And it's about damn time. Come on, people," you added, looking the group over. Daryl had stayed where he was, just giving you that tiny smile of approval you were starting to crave. 

"The man's done his best. He's pretty damn good at makin' the hard decisions, and you know it. And you know we need a leader. This whole arguin' till someone goes off half-cocked and does somethin' stupid thang is gettin' pretty old. Now let's go; let's do as the man says." 

Rick had nodded at you, and everyone had gotten into motion, combining supplies and siphoning gas, but the mood was subdued; no one was talking or laughing anymore. Everyone was shooting sideways looks at you and Rick and Daryl, who were conferring quietly about what to do next. 

 

You had driven all day, roads flowing past as you searched for a place you could defend, could build up like you had spoken to Rick about in a sunny field only a few days before. The thrum of the bike under you, the warm sun and the cool breeze, and the solid bulk of Daryl in front of you had you drowsy, relaxed, almost dozing against his back (and yes, you knew how bad an idea that was, but it had been about three days and two major fights since you got more than an hour's sleep at a time, and you were only human, damn it) when one blast from Rick's horn snapped you awake, and Daryl pulled the bike to a stop. 

"You out?" he called to Rick, as everyone in the cars piled out and converged on the two of you. 

 

So you had stopped for the night, moving Shane's truck, Glenn and Maggie's car, and Daryl's bike into the woods just off the road, and set up shop where you were now. 

Low conversations hummed around you, the group still muttering in discontent. Carl stood up and made his way over to you and Daryl. 

"Hey, bud," you said softly, and Daryl reached out and patted Carl's shoulder without a word. The two of you had pretty much just adopted him at this point, since Lori obviously couldn't keep track of him and Rick was busy with, well, everyone else. You had made sure he'd eaten something earlier, even if it wasn't much, and then told him to get some sleep, but he had shrugged and sat between his mom and dad instead. 

You glanced over at Lori and Rick now and saw that they had moved away from the fire and were talking to each other in the quietly intense way couples argued when they didn't want to be overheard, or didn't want other people to know they were arguing. News flash, everyone knows, you thought absently. 

"Mom and Dad are fighting about Uncle Shane and the baby," Carl spoke to the ground, but he leaned into the hand Daryl had left on his shoulder when Daryl squeezed with sympathy. You were just glad to hear the kid call him 'Uncle Shane' again, even if you would have rather the man had stayed on the farm with the walkers. 

"I'm sorry," you told him gently. 

He shrugged moodily, grabbing a twig and tracing patterns in the dirt. "So... Where are we even going?" 

Daryl responded with Rick's party line about finding a place to fortify against walkers and people alike, respecting his subject change, but you watched the kid's face and saw the tears in his eyes. 

"Hey," you said when Daryl stopped speaking and Carl didn't respond. "Carl. Look at me." 

He did, defiance barely covering the fear and anger in his eyes. 

You met his gaze steadily. "Your mom and dad are doing the best they can. Things get all messed up at the end of the world, kid, but those two- and your Uncle Shane-" you met Shane's eyes across the campfire and he looked away, something like guilt in his expression. You knew he couldn't hear you, but you could tell he knew you were talking to Carl about him. 

"They love you, kiddo," you finished, looking back into the boy's eyes. "They love you, and your dad is doing all of this for you and your sibling there. So just trust him, ok? He's going to take care of you." 

"And we will too, little man," Daryl added quietly. "Your mom and dad might get a little caught up in their stuff, but YN and I will be here. Whatever you need." 

Carl looked down again, nodding, but he leaned into Daryl's side and Daryl wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding both of you close. 

Shane met your eyes across the fire again, taking in Carl cuddled against Daryl. He sighed and looked away, and you almost felt bad for him. Despite everything (and no, you weren't forgiving him, he was a murderer and attempted rapist), you knew he loved that boy like his own. You let your gaze wander as your eyelids got heavy, and you saw Rick and Lori come back toward camp. 

Lori's arms were wrapped around her waist and she looked like she was about to cry. Rick's jaw was tight and you could imagine the way the vein in his neck was jumping even if you couldn't see it from where you were, but he looked around the group immediately, searching for his son. Something Lori, you noticed, didn't do. When he saw Carl with the two of you, his face softened and you saw him start to smile. He caught your eye and nodded thanks to you, and you nodded back. 

"Go to sleep, woman," Daryl's voice whispered into your ear. "I've got you." 

You knew a promise when you heard one, and snuggled into him, turning to press your ear to his chest and listen to his heartbeat, feeling every last bit of energy evaporate as your eyes closed.


	15. Just Eat the Damn Beans Already

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> bad parenting

You and Daryl were back to back, Carl behind you with his gun in an almost professional grip. Rick was in the lead, the two of you in the middle, and Carl brought up the rear, the four of you in tight, practiced formation as you shoved your way into the run-down house you'd found. Inside, you all went your separate ways, but you heard one by one the whispered calls of 'clear!' as the others checked the rooms. 

You moved soundlessly down a dusty hallway toward the rear of the house, where you suspected the back door would be. You came out into what had once been a mudroom or something, and there was the back door, open wide. 

And there were three walkers, turning toward you with the hisses and moans you were so used to by now. You fired the arrow you already had drawn and one went down, and then another as you drew and fired again. You pulled your knife for the third, darting forward to meet it and slamming one arm to its rotting chest, knocking it off balance as you brought your knife up and under its chin, twisting it into the brain. You pulled it back out in a smooth motion and shoved the walker back again as it fell. 

You pulled another arrow and checked the backyard before putting the arrow back and pulling the door closed, locking it. 

"Clear!" you called, a little louder than the others, to make sure you were heard, and then you looked around for something to barricade the door. 

Your vision blurred a little as you moved your head too fast, a familiar sensation even as your stomach growled loudly. You didn't know how long it had been since you had eaten more than a few bites of something tasteless from a can or a mouthful of charred meat before passing it off to Carl or Lori. 

You spotted a heavy-looking thing with shelves and a bench and started dragging it toward the back door, but you weren't getting very far. You heard footsteps behind you, deliberate treads to let you know someone was coming, and then someone was pushing as you pulled and you wrestled the thing into place. 

Breathing hard, you nodded thanks to Carl, who nodded back. Together, you headed back up the short hallway to find the others. 

"Back door's blocked," you reported to Rick. "Took down three of them, but the backyard was clear when I looked. Seems safe to bring the others in." 

Rick nodded and gestured to Daryl, who headed back into the front room. A moment later, you heard his sharp whistle. 

"Alright, let's see what we can find," Rick said, and the three of you started going through cabinets and drawers and closets, stripping the house systematically of anything you could use. 

It wasn't much, like always these days. 

 

You'd been following this same routine for months, going from house to house to campsite to shack, whatever shelter you could find. Never in one place for more than a night- sometimes not even that- as you ran from what was probably the same damn herd of walkers that had overrun the farm. You couldn't get very far at one time, since there just wasn't enough fuel to go around. 

Stealth and skill had let you hold onto one vehicle in addition to Daryl's motorcycle, but that was it. The group took turns riding or going on foot, except Lori and Carl, who always rode- Lori because she was massively pregnant by now, and Carl because he was a kid, even if he was one of your core fighters. 

Winter had set in suddenly, like it often did in the south, and it had been cold and harsh and hungry. Your carefully packed supplies had lasted for a long while, and you had gotten more praise than you could handle from Rick for your foresight, but nothing could last forever. And with winter and the walkers, animals were getting scarce. Between you and Daryl, you were keeping the group alive, but you knew it was at the expense of the two of you, and probably Rick as well. 

You were the strongest three there, without a doubt, but you were also the hungriest. That couldn't go on much longer. 

Scavenging for food and water had gotten harder and harder as well, since you couldn't range very far out from the group and risk leaving someone stranded or running out of fuel and losing the last of your vehicles. 

You heard scuffling from the front of the house as you had your head under the sink in the bathroom, hoping for first aid supplies. 

Somehow- and how you had raged at people about this one- the carefully packed and marked medical bag had been left back at the farm. You were still pissed and disgusted by that. You had what was in the three emergency packs (which had all made it) and in the bags you had left in your exit vehicles, but there had been a number of major and minor injuries over the months (you'd picked up a couple of really delightful new scars), and you had hit rock bottom. All that was left were a few strips of bandages that were being kept clean at all costs, a couple of painkillers and some X from Merle's stash (you still chuckled a little thinking about Daryl joking about Merle getting the clap regularly enough to have a stash), and a handful of antibiotics that were being guarded like the crown jewels of England for when Lori went into labor. 

Everyone knew she'd had a C section with Carl, and that was the biggest concern you (and Rick and Hershel and Lori) had about her giving birth. Hershel had done one before, on a few animals, and that was a blessing, because the rest of you had no idea how. He had been slowly teaching Carol how to do some basic medical procedures, and you admired him for his calm strength and patience. But there was still a real chance that if Lori went into labor and you guys weren't somewhere safe, she could die. 

She and Rick were barely speaking these days, and Carl wanted nothing to do with her. Every time you looked, it seemed she was spending time with Shane, who was somehow still alive, despite it all. He, T Dog, Maggie, and Glenn were your second group of fighters, left to guard Hershel, Beth, Lori, Carol, and what supplies you had left when the rest of you went to check houses. It had been an argument when Shane had wanted to be part of the scouts with your group and Rick had flatly refused. 

You agreed. Shane was alive and he was doing his part, but you still didn't trust him. You were still pretty sure he had sacrificed Andrea to to the walkers on the farm like he had Otis. 

You left the bathroom almost completely empty handed. One partial bottle of out-of-date rubbing alcohol was carefully stowed in your pack, not that you thought it would do much good. You met Carl in the hallway, coming out of the house's single bedroom holding a ratty blanket and a pillow. You followed him into the living room, where the others worked in silence to set up camp in the middle of the floor. 

He walked over to where Lori eased herself to the floor, one hand under her growing belly, and started to look through the last few cans of food in a pack. Carl handed her the pillow and the blanket and walked away without a word. Her eyes followed him sadly as he made his way back to you, leaning into you for a moment before heading back toward the back of the house. She met your eyes briefly before looking back down and rubbing her stomach. 

You felt for her, on one level; Carl was her kid and he wasn't even speaking to her. That had to make it hurt all the more when he did things like he just had, taking care of her without a flicker of emotion. But on another level, she had done this to herself. 

 

A few weeks in, when the fuel ran out of one of the cars again and you had searched on foot for a day without finding any more, she had started arguing with Rick. Shane had joined in, you and Daryl away trying to find some game and no one else having the guts to stop him, and she and Shane had teamed up against Rick. 

Maggie had told you in a low voice when you got back to camp that it had gotten ugly; Lori and Shane both accusing Rick of being unable to take care of his family, insults flying and Lori eventually screaming at Rick that this baby probably wasn't even his. Rick and Shane had almost come to blows, and it was only Carl having gotten between them, shouting at them to calm down and be quiet, that had kept Rick and Shane from trying to kill each other. 

It had been all stony silence among the four of them since then. 

Daryl and Rick came back from the kitchen empty handed. You and Daryl traded a look as the three of you met just outside of the living room. 

"We'll go," you whispered to Rick. Daryl nodded but Rick shook his head. 

"Not now. We've got a little bit. If we're careful, it can last a couple days. This is the best place we've seen in a while, and we could all use a break. We can rest here tonight, maybe y'all can go tomorrow. You need the sleep," he insisted, and the two of you were forced to agree. 

"I'll take watch," Daryl volunteered, and Rick gave him a what the hell look. 

"What part of 'sleep' do you not seem to understand?" he asked, and you snorted a tiny laugh. 

"You've been spendin' too much time with me, Cowboy," you joked, leaning into him for a moment. He smiled back at you. 

"I'll take the first watch," he insisted. 

It was your turn to scowl. "You need to rest too, Rick. We can't have our fearless leader collapsing on us." 

He gave you a frustrated look and Daryl smirked at him. 

"Glenn," you called, and he looked up from where he was helping Beth set up a sleeping bag in one corner. You waved him over and he weaved his way around everyone to you. 

"What's up, guys?" he asked. 

"You alright to take first watch? Our fearless leader here is dead on his feet and is insisting Daryl and I do something called 'sleep'." 

Glenn smiled faintly at your poor attempt at humor. "Yeah, I got you covered. T Dog can take second, and Hershel can do third," he offered. Unspoken agreement united the camp on one thing: Shane didn't take watch, at least not alone. From where he crouched in a corner, next to Lori, he scowled and shook his head. He'd given up protesting awhile ago, and you were glad. He was lucky he had a weapon and was still among the living. 

Rick and Glenn discussed a few more things, their voices a low rumble as you swayed a little on your feet. Daryl's hand grabbed your elbow, steadying you. 

"Come on, woman," he said. "Let's go." He hauled you over to the wall, right inside the back entrance to the living room. The two of you were somehow always the rear guard. Even if you didn't think anything could get in through that furniture piece you and Carl had shoved against the back door, it never hurt to be too careful. If a threat came from behind, you'd defend while the others got out. If it came from the front, you would clear the path and take point for the group's retreat. 

He pushed you down to sit on the floor and stalked over to Lori and the group's rations. You closed your eyes as they had a quiet discussion, and you felt Carl slide to the floor beside you. You lifted your arm, and he scooted closer so you could toss your arm around his shoulders. You already knew whatever Daryl came back with, you would give most of it to Carl. 

"Here," Daryl snapped, putting a can of beans in your lap. "Eat this. All of it." 

You just looked at him. While you argued with your eyes, Carl took the can out of your hands and produced a can opener from his pocket. He opened the can and placed it back into your hand. You were still staring Daryl down, arguing without a word, but then you were grinning, a laugh bubbling out as you remembered the first night you had spent with this group. 

"What is it with you and feeding me beans, Dixon?" you asked finally, taking the can and grabbing out a bite with your fingers. You held the can out to Carl, but he didn't take it. Daryl just grunted at you, a smile on his lips as well, and you turned to Carl. 

He wasn't looking at you, refusing to take the can from your hand. 

"Kid," you said quietly but seriously. "Take the damn can. Eat some damn beans." 

"No," he said, voice just as stubborn as yours. 

"Grimes," you snapped at him, and that got his attention. He looked at you, eyes flashing. 

"No," he repeated, jaw set. "You've given me more than half of everything you've had for a week straight. You're barely eating, Daryl too," he nodded over your head at Daryl, who glanced at him from under his shaggy hair. "You two need to eat more than I do today." 

You didn't respond, just stared him down, can held out to him. It was a battle of wills, and damn the kid was stubborn. Unfortunately for him, you were even more so. 

You had felt the group watching you, the quiet rumble of conversations muted at Carl's outburst. 

"He's right, YN," Lori whispered into the silence. Neither you or Carl spared her a glance as you battled. 

"No, he's not," you answered her. "Carl. Kid. Just share the damn beans with us. I'm not going to eat any more if you don't, and it'll just go to waste." 

You heard Daryl snort from beside you and elbowed him sharply. "You're eating some too, Dixon; just wait." 

Carl blinked first, letting out a long sigh, and took the can. He dipped his fingers in and pulled out a small bite, then handed it back. You took another bite and passed it to Daryl, letting the two of them win a little, since you had had two bites to their one. 

Daryl, at least, didn't argue. Conversations resumes and people's eyes closed as the three of you shared the can. It was empty too quickly, of course, but Carl just set it aside and stretched out at your side, setting the sheriff's hat over his face and gripping his gun loosely in his hand. 

You didn't bother to take it from him anymore. 

You pulled your quiver and bow off your back with a sigh. You'd been making more arrows along the way, a skill you'd picked up back before the world ended. (When you'd really actually been the camp counselor you complained about being now; not that you would ever share than information with anyone, given the number of times you'd grouched about it.) 

What you wouldn't have given for some of Daryl's sturdy crossbow bolts, though, and you lamented the store-bought (well, stolen, at the same time as your pack and your bow, but who was counting?) ones you'd had to leave behind at the farm. Daryl competently and quickly checked your pack, then put it down beside him and pulled you down to curl against him, where he stretched out, too. 

You fell asleep instantly, as usual these days, using his chest as a pillow. 

The walkers arrived right before dawn.


	16. It's Gotta Get Better Before It Gets Worse, or Some Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon-typical violence

Round and round and round you went, running, taking out walkers, snatching sleep where you could and scavenging for what little resources you could find in the picked-over houses. 

Somehow, you were hitting the same places you had hit earlier in the winter, as you moved in circles, just trying to stay ahead of the walkers. Something had to give, and soon. 

You, Rick, and Daryl left Carl with the others and headed into the woods on your own. Carl had scowled, but you had nodded in Lori's direction, where she was slowly walking down to the stream you'd been lucky enough to find. She was all skin and bones and protruding belly, and everyone was worried about how small she was. Shane was trailing behind her, and Carl had turned back to you with a nod, heading after them. 

You were all starving, slowly, but Lori was wasting away when she needed food the most. Pretty much every bite went to her these days, and she'd given up trying to argue. It took energy none of you had to spare.

No one talked anymore unless they had to. Communication was seamless and easy, bordering on unnecessary, at least for most of you. Conserving energy and resources was the most important thing. 

Basically, you were all fucked if something didn't change. 

You and Daryl and Rick were growing increasingly desperate, taking greater risks to try to scout locations. Carl's eyes held steadfast trust and assurance that everything would be ok, but that just made the circles under his eyes and hollowness in his cheeks more gut wrenching to see. 

 

The three of you covered ground swiftly and silently. You had all bent over a map and picked your direction from your best guesses as to where you were now. Hopefully you were covering ground you hadn't been over already. 

You had lost all your maps in a mad dash from a campsite that got overrun one night pretty early on, and you knew you'd basically just been stumbling around in blind circles since then. But a few houses back, you had found one buried deep on a bookshelf you had been pulling books from for kindling. It was the first time you'd seen hope in Rick's eyes in weeks. 

 

There was no noise but the low hum of insects as you moved through the woods. Things were finally starting to warm up as winter gave way to spring, and while you were grateful for an end to the brutally cold nights, Lori was bound to be due any day now. Rick was losing hope again. 

Daryl's crossbow tracked up into the trees and a bolt twanged out. The sound, quiet as it was, shattered the silence. Rick turned to see what the danger was, and all three of you exchanged triumphant grins when the squirrel fell from the tree, Daryl's bolt in its head. 

"Nice shot, Dixon," you whispered as he went to retrieve bolt and squirrel. He tucked it into your pack that he was carrying, and then you were moving again. 

 

The first time he'd stripped the skin from a snake and speared it over the fire you'd eyed it- and him- dubiously. 

"Seriously, Dixon?" you'd asked, and he'd just smirked at you. 

"Too good to eat snake, princess?" he teased, and you'd taken it as the challenge it was. You'd eaten every bite he gave you, hating it with every second, but determined to get a leg up on him. He'd rewarded you that night with a good make out session in the woods while everyone else slept. 

That had been early on, before you'd lost the maps and the cars and used so many of your supplies. When everyone was still talking, and you still had energy for things like teasing and making out. 

You really missed making out with Daryl. Possibly more than you missed eating. 

You really needed to get your priorities straight. 

Daryl turned in the sunlight, and a thin sheen of sweat gleamed over the muscles in his arm. 

Never mind, you had your priorities in exactly the right order. 

 

His skin had been cool from the stream he'd scrubbed off in when he curled behind you one night, pressing his nose to your hair. You'd turned in his arms to press your face to his chest, breathing in the wild scent of him. It wasn't like any of you really smelled good anymore, and you'd basically stopped noticing. But you loved the way Daryl smelled, and surrounding yourself with the scent of him was one of the few comforts you had left. 

No one was really clean, ever, but you did the best you could. Your flannel- formerly his, but you both knew it belonged to you now- was stained permanently, a muddy dirty reddish brown from the sheer amount of blood and guts that had coated it on any given day. He had picked up jacket somewhere when it started getting cold, and he wore it with his vest layered over it. 

You would follow those tattered wings anywhere if he asked. 

You followed them now, noiseless over half-rotten leaves, and you wondered if you would really survive this. 

 

The first time he'd swung that vest on was after the CDC. You'd been setting up camp by the side of the highway, and he was digging around in the side bags of the motorcycle when you saw him pull something out and freeze. He'd held it in his hands for a long moment before dropping it on the bike's seat and disappearing into the woods. 

You figured out pretty quickly that it had been Merle's, and you'd given Rick the heads up and followed him into the woods. 

He hadn't gone far, and you'd found him with his back to a tree, kicking in the head of a walker. 

"That the only one?" you asked casually, and he had stopped moving, but stayed facing away from you. 

"Yeah," he'd muttered, and you'd heard the unshed tears in his voice. 

Without a thought, you'd walked up and wrapped your arms around him from behind. He didn't say a word and neither did you, but you'd felt him shaking as he cried for his brother. You just held on, letting him know you were there while giving him some privacy. Eventually, he had squeezed your hands and stepped away, moving further into the forest without looking at you. 

You had let him go, heading back to camp, and he had return a few hours later with dinner, and swung the vest over his shoulders without a word. 

 

The three of you came out of the woods onto a road all of the sudden, and wordless agreement had you following it. You needed a sign or something, to help you get your bearings, so you could actually use the map to maybe find some shelter. 

You found a bridge over what you thought was the same stream you were camped beside, and Rick came to an abrupt halt. 

So abrupt, you ran into him. 

"Sorry," you muttered, but he just stood there, staring at something in the distance. You looked too, and there it was. 

A prison.


	17. Must Be Something In the Water

The three of you spread the map out on the road, Daryl keeping watch while you and Rick triangulated where you were, where the prison was, and where you had left your group. 

"We need to get a closer look," Rick said seriously. 

"Yeah, from here it looks like it's crawlin' with walkers. Damn shame," Daryl put in from where he stood over you. 

You were nodding, tracing paths to get the three of you closer so you could check it out. 

Walls, fences, guard towers. Actual beds, a real kitchen of sorts, maybe even a well-stocked infirmary. 

It had the potential to be a gold mine. 

 

The three of you made your way there, following train tracks to a spot where you could overlook most of the prison yard. There were walkers all over the yard, but from what you could see, the fences around the place seemed to be in tact, as did the ones dividing the yard into sections. 

Hell, those might even be manageable sections. 

You looked at Rick, to see him considering the same way you were. 

"We could take it," you said quietly. He nodded. You looked over to Daryl, who nodded as well. 

"Come on," Rick said. "Let's get back to the others. We can move closer tonight, make our plans, and maybe take this thing by tomorrow. Get inside the fences, at least." 

The three of you made your way back to camp, Daryl and you starting a competition to see who could bring down the most squirrels. The area you were in had more small creatures running around than you'd seen in days. You couldn't believe the way your luck seemed to be turning. 

Daryl won with three, but you got two of your own, and only broke one arrow in the process. So you'd count that as a win.

 

When you got back to the others, you found them all at the stream. Carl was sitting on a rock, watching the woods warily, but he had a smile ghosting over his face that looked more real than any you'd seen in a long time. 

Shane was standing, naked to the waist, in the water, helping Carol wash clothes. Most of the group's spare clothing was draped over rocks and trees around the area, and Lori was sitting, hair dripping down her back and laughing with Beth. Hershel was filling the group's empty water bottles and anything that would hold water to boil later. T Dog stood watch, eyes roving the woods around them, and much like Carl, he was smiling too. 

Seems the sunshine and warmer air had done good for everyone, and the news you brought- as well as the squirrels- would do even more. 

Carl's face lit up when the three of you came striding out of the woods. He slid down off the rock, and headed over to you. 

"Shane caught a fish. We are it raw," he said, falling into step beside you and sounding an awful lot like he was reporting in. "Hershel's been focused on getting as much water as we can, but we're going to need a fire to boil it. Most of the laundry's done, and Mom made me take a bath." He scowled on the last one, and you all stopped in amazement as Rick started laughing so hard he had to prop his hands on his knees, doubling over. 

Before long, you and Daryl had joined in, and after another moment even Carl was chuckling. It was nice to know that at the end of the world, kids still resented being forced into baths.

"Hey," Shane yelled from the water. "What's so funny?" 

Instantly, the four of you sobered. No one here was really Shane's friend, not anymore, except maybe Lori, but you four were the ones most against him. 

"Nothin'," Daryl yelled back with a glare, and Shane sighed and helped Carol out of the water. 

The four of you reached the rest of the group. Rick started talking immediately, filling them in on what you had planned, but you headed down to the water. Dropping your bow and quiver, you pulled off your gun belt, leaving it with your knife and handgun on the ground. You climbed up onto Carl's rock, then took a deep breath, bounced up onto the balls of your feet, and ran forward, flinging yourself out into the center of the stream. 

The water hit you cold and sharp and wonderful, and you swam underwater until you needed oxygen. You surfaced with a gasp, treading water as you shoved damp hair out of your eyes. 

Daryl stood on the rock you'd just left, watching you with that amused smirk, and the rest of the group stood around Rick, watching you as well. Carl was openly grinning, Rick had that soft I'm-trying-not-to-be-amused smile, and Shane was staring at the ground, scuffing his feet into the dirt. Maggie was leaning back into Glenn's arms, laughing at you, and you watched Glenn whisper something in her ear that had her smacking his hand playfully. 

"What the hell, woman?" Daryl asked, and you turned your eyes back to him. 

"Come on, Dixon, the water's great!" you called in response, ducking back under for a minute and scrubbing at your hair, trying to remove some of the grime. Maybe some of the guts, at least. 

"Nah," Daryl said when you surfaced again, sitting down and dangling one leg over the rock. "I'll just keep watch." 

You laughed. "You'll just watch me, you mean," you teased, flipping onto your back and floating closer to him. His eyes roamed your body, where your shirt now clung to what little curves you had left. Starvation diet didn't exactly lead to a voluptuous figure. 

But Daryl was smiling at you full out now. 

"I mean, if you're offerin'," he said, and you grinned some more. 

"YN!" Rick called and you groaned, but swam closer to shore. 

"Yeah?" you yelled back. 

"Come on, we gotta make a plan!" 

"Sorry, woman," Daryl said dryly, standing up as you swam until your feet touched the bottom. You rose, and walked out of the water, feeling his eyes on you as water poured off your body and melded your clothes to your frame. "Guess playtime's over." 

When you reached the shore, he was waiting for you, handing you your belt. Once you had it buckled back around your hips, he turned away from the group on shore and yanked you into a hot kiss.

"If he looks at you like that again, I'm gonna kill him," he growled against your lips a moment later, and you knew he was talking about Shane. Daryl pulled back and you looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, Shane was giving you that look, the one that made your skin crawl and your hand twitch toward the knife at your hip. 

You took your bow and quiver back from Daryl and shoved the loose hair back from your face again. You leaned forward and kissed him back gently, ignoring his scowl. 

"Ignore him, Dixon, he won't do anything. Looking's free," you said with a shrug. "Besides, we need him if we're taking over that prison." 

"No," Daryl said quietly. "We really don't." But he let you squeeze his hand as you headed back toward Rick, leaving him standing there looking out at the water behind you. 

"Like what you see?" you snapped at Shane as you brushed passed him. He looked away without responding, but you caught Lori frowning at you just behind him. For the love of all things unholy, why could those two not quit each other? 

"What's up, Cowboy?" you asked Rick, and then the two of you were bending over your carefully horded blank paper, where Rick had sketched out a basic outline of the prison. A moment later, Daryl's hand ran down your back possessively as he joined you. 

You and Rick hammered out the bare bones of a plan: cut the outer fence with bolt cutters, slip inside the guard run, and close the hole you'd made. Then make your way down, clear out as many towers as you could, and see how much it would take to clear the yard.


	18. Who's Idea Was This, Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence

It turns out, it didn't take too much- just a lot of bullets and arrows and an insane run toward an open gate. 

"It's perfect," Rick said softly. "If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard. We can pick off these walkers. We'll take the field by tonight." 

The excitement in his voice was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, shifting slightly on the balls of your feet, ready to run. 

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked. 

"I'll do it," Glenn said. "You guys cover me." 

"No!" Maggie cried. "It's a suicide run." 

"I'm the fastest," he argued, but Rick shut him down. 

"No, you Maggie and Beth draw as many as you can over there. Shane, you go with them," he gestured to one side, far from the gate you would need to use to access the yard. "Pop 'em through the fence over there. Daryl, you go back to the other tower. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot." He put a hand on her shoulder, looked her in the eyes. "Take your time. We don't have a lot of ammo to waste." 

Carol nodded and grabbed a rifle. 

Rick continued. "Hershel, you and Carl, take this tower. T Dog, stay with Lori. Keep her safe."

Then he turned and looked at me. I nodded, knowing what he was thinking. 

"I'll run for the gate," he declared, and the weariness in his voice almost made me laugh. 

"I'm coming with you," you said, and he nodded. 

"I was hoping." 

"The hell you are, woman!" Daryl called, shading his eyes to glare at me from where he and Carol had started for their tower. 

You walked over to him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him softly. "I'll be fine. Someone has to cover Rick's ass, and I'm the best at hand to hand, remember?" 

It was true. You didn't know if it was your speed or what, but you seemed to be able to get out of any crowd of walkers alive. 

So far at least, and it wasn't the sort of thing you got the chance to mess up on more than once. 

Wait, this was supposed to be a pep talk for Daryl. 

"Don't worry, Dixon. I'll be fine," you said, kissing him again. You stepped back and turned to go back to Rick, but he caught your hand. You turned back to him and he studied your face for a long moment before nodding and letting go. 

"Aight. Don't be an idiot, woman," he said and you flipped him off and jogged back up to Rick. 

You settled your quiver over your shoulders more firmly, checked that your knife would draw rapidly, and notched an arrow on the string of your bow. 

"Let's do this, Cowboy." 

 

You were running. Rick was ahead of you, bullets and crossbow bolts filled the air, and you were weaving in and out of reaching arms and snapping teeth. 

You dropped one that was too close to Rick, and a bullet zinged into the ground at his feet. He shot a glare at the towers, and you wondered who that was. 

You didn't have time to wonder too much, though, because you were a bit busy keeping Rick alive. You slung the bow over your head to rest crosswise over your body as you kept on Rick's tail, bringing your knife out and at the ready. Rick reached the gate, kicked a walker back behind it, and set his shoulder against the gate. 

He didn't see the walker coming up behind him, but you did. 

You jumped onto the thing's back, knife sinking into it's temple, and hit the ground as it did. You rolled, coming to your feet smoothly, and damn if Rick hadn't gotten the gate clipped shut. 

You'd wondered if he really would be able to. 

He was at the door of the guard tower, yelling for you to come to him, but before you could, there was another walker in your path. You grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him close to you as you jabbed up under his chin, then spun the walker and shoved him in front of you toward the next one in line. 

Rule number one of staying alive: there was always a next one in line.

The body took down the one you'd shoved it toward, but there were two more behind that one and a third coming up behind you. 

Rick was still waving and yelling, but there were more walkers coming up behind him, as the ones at the fences lost interest in the groups trying to keep their attention and came at the two of you. 

The shots from the towers had slowed to practically nothing as the walkers converged on you and Rick and the possibility of hitting one of you grew too great to risk it. 

"Get inside, Rick! Behind you!" you screamed at him as you charged away from the tower, into the herd. 

Rick yelled something else at you, but you weren't listening anymore, instead concentrating on just staying alive. There was no time for planning, no time really for thought, and it was just you, your knife, and the rhythm of the dance. 

One, two, three more went down before one grabbed a hold of your braid by sheer stupid luck. You'd been spinning, following the momentum of a kick you'd lashed out, and your braid had flown up at the exact moment Fugly with the bony fingers had reached out, and, well-

"Shit, shit, shit!" 

You were struggling to keep out of the walker's reach, letting its pulls move you with it like you were leashed together by the tug of your hair on your scalp, but you were going to be in trouble soon if you didn't get free. 

Damn, nothing for it. 

You kicked again at a walker who came a little too close, grabbed the arm of the one who had your hair, and yanked him into your body. Your knife sank into his temple, then you twisted it and it came back out with a wet slurping crunch, and released the body. 

As it fell, it pulled your braid tight, and you reached over your shoulder and hacked the knife through your braid. 

It took three strokes, but you were free, your hair unraveling from the braid to swing around your face as you hauled ass toward the tower Rick was defending. 

You heard the shots start ringing out again as you skidded to Rick's side and the two of you charged up the steps to the walkway. Your bow was drawn again before you got to the top, but there was no need. 

You got there just in time to see the last walker drop. 

You threw up your hands, bow in one and arrow in the other, and screamed, a wordless victory cry that turned into wild adrenaline-fueled laughter at the startled look on Rick's face. 

Down behind the fence, you could see Beth screaming and cheering and jumping in the air, with Glenn, Maggie, and T Dog shaking their heads at her. Daryl and Carol were just figures on the distant tower's walkway, but Carl was jumping around in the closer tower with Hershel laughing beside him. 

Shane and Lori were standing still, staring at each other across the empty space.


	19. Have You Thought About Just Kissing Me Instead?

You heaved the shoulders of a walker up and Glenn did the same with the feet, hauling it away from where you were making your campsite in the center of the yard you'd cleared. 

"One, two, three," he grunted, and you released the body to land with a thud on top of the others. 

You felt dizzy in the wake of the adrenaline rush and the battle, and you wiped a hand over your forehead, closing your eyes against the way the world spun. You snapped them open again when Glenn started laughing. 

"What?" you asked as you turned to head back to the campsite. 

"You, ah- you got a little walker blood on your face," Glenn said with a grin, gesturing to your forehead. 

You looked down at your hands and groaned. "I just had a bath!" you fake-moaned, and Glenn dissolved into laughter again. 

Glenn had saved your life a few times out on the road, and you liked him a lot. Plus, he and Maggie were boarder-line too adorable to stand these days. The two of you chatted about plans for the prison as you grabbed another body and hauled it down to the pile. After you'd tossed it, you turned to make the trek back, but Glenn stopped you with a hand on your arm. 

You looked at him curiously, but he was looking back behind you, toward the camp, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. 

"Glenn?" you asked him after a moment. He looked into your eyes for a minute, but then his glance flicked away again. 

"Ok, come on Speed Racer," you said, crossing your arms. "What's going on?" 

Glenn's lips twitched into a small smile at the nickname, but he turned serious eyes to you, finally meeting your gaze. 

"It's Shane," he said bluntly. 

"Oh," you said. "What about him?" Your voice was flat, but something was coiled tight within you at Glenn's tone.

"You need to be careful, YN," Glenn said, sounding worried. "I've seen the way he looks at you. I know you have too, but you haven't heard some of the things he's said." 

You raised an eyebrow at Glenn, gesturing for him to continue. 

"It's not just the... well, the thinly veiled interest," he carried on, a flush forming on his cheeks. You snorted and he nodded. "It's more than that. He's trying to turn the group against you. So far, Lori's the only one who listens to him. She's the only one here who really tolerates his bullshit, and I don't see that changing. You saved Hershel; Maggie and Carol pretty much think you're the biggest badass on the planet; Beth is too sweet to listen to him; and T Dog just tells him to shut up every time he opens his mouth. And Carl worships the ground you walk on," Glenn added with a smile for you. "But I thought you should know. You're going to want to do something about that soon, before it gets worse. And please," he added, giving you another serious look. "Don't ever be alone with him." 

"Thanks, Glenn," you said quietly. You thought for a minute as the two of you started walking back. "Glenn, if you find a moment to do so without being too obvious, could you find a way to tell Rick?" 

He glanced at you and nodded. 

"But maybe leave out the part about Lori listening to him," you added quietly as you drew close enough that others started greeting you. You smiled and waved as Carl got up from the fire and came in your direction. "They've got enough relationship drama without that." 

"Yeah," Glenn said. "I can do that. I'm going to go find Maggie." He stepped away and you called after him. 

"Thanks for the help, Speed Racer!" 

Carl reached you and grinned. "How come I don't get a nickname?" he asked with a fake pout. 

"What are you talkin' about, kiddo?" you asked, slinging your arm over his shoulders and looking around for Daryl and Rick. 

"Everybody else has nicknames," he said. "Daryl and Dad are walking the fences, checking for any weak points or damage," he added for you, and you tightened your arm around him in wordless thanks. Once you knew where to look, you spotted them easily, walking the fence line together. 

"Glenn's Speed Racer, Maggie is Farmer's Daughter, Mom is Queen Bee, Shane's Officer Overly-Friendly, Dad's Cowboy," Carl ticked off on his fingers. "Andrea was Barbie, with or without more descriptions," he grinned at you and you grinned back. "And Daryl's Dixon. Where's my nickname?" 

"I didn't give T Dog a nickname," you pointed out, and Carl rolled his eyes. 

"That's because T Dog is a nickname." 

"Hmm, fair point. Well, Carol and Beth don't have nicknames either!" you said triumphantly, pointing at him. 

He laughed. "Ok, fine, not everyone has a nickname. But why don't I? I like your nicknames," he said with a grin. 

You flicked the brim of his hat down. "Cause you get about six hundred pet names, kid. That's even better." 

He shook his head at you, but he was grinning. "If you say so, YN. Come on, you need some food. Mom's cooked up the squirrels you and Daryl brought, and we cracked open the last of the canned stuff. We've got plates for you, Daryl, and Dad." 

He drew you closer to the fire, and you took the plate he handed you. He scooped up two more and you started wandering over to where Daryl and Rick were standing now, pointing at the guard towers and discussing something. You took a minute as you walked to admire the way Daryl stood, legs planted and slightly spread, and the way the muscles in his arms moved as he gestured casually with his crossbow or his free hand. Then you focused back on Carl. 

"Did you eat yet, kid?" you asked him, and he huffed and rolled his eyes. 

"Yes, mom," he joked, and you twitched a little. 

"Hey, don't call me that," you said quietly, stopping to look at him. 

He looked away from you, the smiling sliding off his face. "Ok. Sorry," he said shortly, starting to push ahead of you, but you grabbed his sleeve with your free hand. 

"Grimes," you said seriously, and he looked up at you in surprise. You had only called him that a few times, when you really wanted him to pay attention, and he knew it, meeting your eyes despite the hurt you saw there. 

"Look, bud, it's not that I care. I don't. I'd be lucky to be your mom, and I feel lucky you like me enough to say that even as a joke. But think about what Lori would think. Think about how your actual mom would feel. I know you two aren't on the best of terms right now, and I know why, but bud. Listen to me. Don't do that to her. I know you love her, and you can't even imagine how it would hurt her to overhear that right now." 

Carl was watching you steadily as you talked, and you saw him really thinking about it. 

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered, finally looking down. "You really didn't mind, though? You're just looking out for my mom?" 

"Yeah, kid," you answered, resuming your walk toward the others. "Really." 

"Cool. I won't then." 

"Hey, Carl!" Rick called as you closed the rest of the distance between you and them, smiles back on your faces. "Whatcha got there?" 

"Brought you dinner, Dad. You too, Daryl." He handed the plates to them happily, and Rick smiled at his son. 

"Did you eat already? Did Mom?" Rick asked, and Carl looked at you with a grin and an eye roll. 

"Yes, Dad, come on," he complained, and Rick nodded to you and Daryl and started back toward camp with Carl in tow. 

You were grinning after them when you felt Daryl's arm slip around you, and you leaned back into him with a sigh. 

"There ya are," he whispered into your ear. "Been missin' ya." 

You were grinning like a fool and you didn't even care. "You missed me, Dixon? That's sweet." 

"Ain't sweet, just is," he said, squeezing you again before letting go of you. "Now eat up, woman." 

You smirked at him and began eating the little that was on your plate, raising your eyebrows at him until he did the same. When you were both finished, he took the plate from your hands, stacked it on his, and set them down carefully in the grass. You were watching him, amused, when he turned back to you and grabbed you by the shoulders. 

"What the hell do you think that damn stunt was, woman?" he snarled, something you were getting all too used to hearing from him. "You coulda run to Rick in the damn tower. Hell, you coulda stayed behind the fence like a normal person an' covered him from there!" 

You were holding onto your temper by a thread, knowing it really had been a close call, and knowing how scared you would have been in his place. But really, this was too much. 

"No, I couldn't have, Dixon!" you snapped back, stepping up into his space until you were toe to toe. "Rick needed someone to have his back, and I'm the best with a damn knife we've got! I'm faster than Rick, almost as fast as Glenn, and I can fight, damn it! I was fine!" 

"Fine?" Daryl yelled. "Have you looked at yourself? You chopped off your hair to get away from one!" He flicked the ragged, uneven ends of your hair with one hand, gesturing wildly with the other. 

"I know! But I got away! I would have chopped my arm off if I had to! I know how to survive, Dixon!" 

He yelled, wordlessly, turning away from you and stalking toward the fence. Then he paced back to you, yelling at you again. 

"And what if you'd had to? What if that fucker had scratched you, or bitten you? Damn it, woman! I could have lost you, and I was too far away to do any damn thing about it!" He stopped, chest heaving, and you moved into him. 

You wrapped your arms around him, sliding your hands under his vest, and pressed your lips to his neck. His arms came around you, threading one hand to tangle into your hair and press you to him, the other taking a fistful of your shirt. 

"I could have lost you," he whispered harshly over your head, chin resting on your hair. "And I just found you." 

"I know," you said quietly. "Daryl, I know. I'm sorry. I know how it is. I watched you walk into the woods every day to look for Sofia; I watched you come out of them with an arrow hole in your side; I watched you get shot right in front of me. I watched you ride away from the farm with Carol and not me. I've watched you countless times, holdin' a walker at arm's length, or holdin' the escape route open for the others. I've had my heart in my throat every time." You swallowed hard against your own fears, tears in your eyes. 

"But this is the life we have. We're tough. We're survivors. We're fighters, Daryl, and you have to trust me. You have to trust me to come back to you," you whispered. "I can't stop bein' in danger. I won't hide and let others fight for me. So you have to trust me, and stop fuckin' yellin' at me every time we have a close call." 

He drew in as shaky breath, releasing you slightly to look into your eyes. "I know," he said. "I know, aight? I'm sorry. I just- I thought I was gonna break in half when that walker caught your hair. I hate feelin' like that, like I can't breathe. Don't know what else to do, so I just- get mad," he tossed his head a little. 

"I can deal with bein' mad; been mad most of my life. But then you- you act like you're fine, after, like it's no big deal and you come six inches from death every damn day." He shook his head at you, eyes bright. 

You grinned at him. "To be fair, Dixon, I do come six inches from death every damn day. So do you." 

He snorted, and you touched his face. 

"But I know what you mean. Sometimes, you have a close call, and it feels like there's iron in my lungs, in my legs, everywhere. Like my nightmares, but a thousand times worse. I get the reflex to yell."

"Yeah," he said, running his fingers through what remained of your hair. "What should I do instead, if I can't yell at ya?" he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. 

"Hmmm," you pretended to think about it, winding your arms around his neck. "Have you thought about just kissin' me instead?" 

"I can do that," he murmured, and did.


	20. Stop Me If You've Heard This Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> self-blaming thoughts/habits, typical of previous abuse

You slept, actually slept, that night for the first time in weeks. Maybe even months. 

You woke up with Daryl's poncho draped over you, alone where you'd fallen asleep curled into him. You sat up, rubbing your eyes again before grimacing at the flaking walker blood on your hands. 

It was a miracle you hadn't picked up some deadly disease yet. 

Camp was stirring. You were actually the last one up, something that never happened. 

"Mornin', sleepyhead," Shane said from behind you. 

"Bite me, asshat," you muttered, getting to your feet with a muffled groan. You immediately bent at the waist, practically folding yourself in half, trying to stretch out muscles that were pissed at you for the fighting and running the day before. 

God, even your head was sore, from where Fugly had been yanking on your hair. 

You ended up moving into a plank, then some casual yoga, loosening up more and more as you moved. Conversations ebbed and flowed around you, until one voice cut through the rest. 

"Uncle Shane, if Daryl catches you staring at her like that, he's gonna kill you." Carl's tone was completely matter of fact, and you shot upright from where you'd been finishing your routine the way you'd started it, bent double with your hands flat on the ground. 

You should have been paying more attention. You'd known he was there, you heard him speak, but you'd assumed he was on his way by. Glenn had warned you, hell, the man had attacked you twice. You should have known better than to be moving like you had been in front of him, and now Daryl was going to be mad at you for flaunting your body in front of someone else and-

Wait. Wait. Fuck that noise. 

That was your ex's voice in your head, telling you everything was your responsibility, your fault. 

And you got mad. 

Carl was telling Shane to back off. Carl. A fucking kid. 

You whirled around, and your knife was in your hand without thought directing it. 

"You wanna dance, Shane?" you asked, voice deadly. "I'm tired of your eyes on me. Give me one good reason not to cut them out of your head." 

He was standing, hip cocked in that overconfident way, and he spat at the ground and looked up at you. 

"You talk a big game, sweetheart, but you really think you can fight with the big boys?" he sneered at you, and you started moving toward him. 

Before you could get there, though, Carl darted in front of you, slamming right into Shane. Shane staggered back a full step, holding his hands up, open in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Jesus, Carl!" you yelled. "What the hell are you doin'?" 

Shane tried to step around him, his eyes sliding off of Carl and to the ground guiltily, but Carl shifted with Shane, putting himself in his path, forcing Shane to look at him. 

"Don't talk to her like that again," Carl said. "I hear you. I see you. Just stop it, Shane! Stop it!" 

Shane's gaze flicked to you behind Carl. You met his eyes and raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms and gesturing toward Carl with your knife. 

It was the kid's show now, man. 

Shane nodded once to Carl, and turned and walked away as Rick came running up. Shane brushed past Rick with a growl, and Rick looked between Shane and you and Carl. 

"What's going on here, guys? Carl?" he asked. 

"Shane keeps staring at YN. I didn't like it, so I told him to stop. He did," Carl said with a shrug, and walked away in the opposite direction from Shane. 

Rick looked at you, eyes wide. You shrugged. 

"Glenn talked to me last night, YN," Rick said, coming closer to you. You shrugged again, sheathing your knife and grabbing up your bow and quiver. 

"He needs to be handled, Rick," you said finally, turning to him. Looking past him, you saw Carl standing in front of Daryl, and you wondered just how much fast talking the kid was doing to keep Daryl from going after Shane. 

One of these days, Daryl was going to just kill him and be done with it. 

You kinda hoped it'd be today. 

But then you looked back at Rick, your friend, and his tortured expression. 

"We need him. Just until we get the prison cleaned out. We can't afford to lose anyone now," Rick said, sounding more like he was convincing himself than you. 

You sighed and stepped closer to Rick. "Listen, Cowboy, you've done right by me, and by this group. I've had no complaints about you since the day you found me on the side of the road. But that man is dangerous. And it's not going to be much longer before he does something we can't ignore or pretend isn't happening. It's not going to be much longer until Carl and I can't stop Daryl from killin' him." 

Rick nodded. "I know." 

"Good," you said. "You should also know that if it comes down to it, I'll kill him myself. Now," you said, stepping back and your voice returning to your normal, casually teasing tone. "Let's get on with the day's agenda, shall we?" 

 

The night before, Rick had told everyone he wanted to keep pushing, further into the prison. You had agreed. You had momentum, and you needed the food and medicine you hoped to find inside. Lori was going to pop any day now, too, and you knew everyone would be more comfortable with that happening behind doors.

Lori, in typical Lori fashion, had disagreed. Rick had stormed off, and as Daryl muttered to you where you stood waiting to get this party rolling, the man hadn't slept at all. 

Just what you wanted before a major assault. 

You were dangerously short on ammo as a group; there was no way you'd put anything like a dent in the walkers with guns. You and Daryl were good on arrows, but besides your bows, it was going to be a hand-to-hand operation. 

Rick looked at you. "You're the expert, YN. You and I will take point. T Dog, Glenn, Maggie, we'll be in tight formation. Daryl, you'll cover the rear." 

"What about me, Dad?" Carl asked, and Rick looked at him seriously. 

"I need you here, with your mom and the others," he said. 

Carl scowled at Rick. "Shane'll watch them. Why else are we keeping him around anyway?" 

You privately wondered the same thing, and from Daryl's snort at your shoulder, he agreed. 

Rick nodded. "I know he will. But I need you there too. I can't take you in there with us. If we get overrun, I need another man out here." 

Carl whirled around to you. "We've been a team for months! The four of us could take on this whole prison!" 

You shook your head at him. "Sorry, bud. I won't override your dad. Especially not when I agree with him. Someone needs to stay behind with the others, and you're the best man for the job." 

Rick was looking at you gratefully, but Carl was glaring. 

"Fine!" he yelled, and stomped past you to stand staring out at the woods. 

"See you later, kiddo," you called to him, but he didn't respond. 

You didn't even try to pretend that didn't hurt. You glanced up at Daryl as he squeezed your hand. 

"He's just mad. Don't worry about it. He'll be runnin' to ya when we get back," he whispered to you, and you nodded, watching the way Carl's shoulders jerked once and then set again. 

"Come on, guys, let's get this done," Rick said, and you kissed Daryl's cheek and moved to Rick's shoulder. 

"Be careful, woman," Daryl said. 

You grinned at him. "Have fun, Dixon." 

 

Rick slid the gate open, and the two of you pushed through. The others followed, Daryl in the rear, and Hershel slid it shut behind you. 

You were working easily, everyone shuffling along together, back to back, calling out to people to handle walkers on either side. You dispatched a couple in the front easily, let Rick handle others, and moved further up and further in. T Dog grabbed a riot shield from a walker. 

Then the shit hit the fan, as it always does. 

You came around the corner too fast, and there was another open gate. Behind it, of course, was a small horde of walkers. Then from around another corner came several more, fully equipped in riot gear. 

You were in motion immediately, heading for the ones in the gear. The good news was, their faces were blocked, so they couldn't bite you. 

The bad news was, their heads were blocked, so you couldn't get to their skulls. 

You ducked under the arms of you, wrapping your arm around the second from behind, and jerked its head back to jam your knife up into the brain from under the chin. 

You could hear Rick yelling for Daryl, and the sound of the gate closing, but you were circling Riot Walker Number One again, holding the body of number two in front of you like a shield. 

"Come on, come on," you muttered, then shoved the body at the shambling walker. Down they both went, and you dropped on top of them, swooping in for the kill. 

Then it was over. Daryl and Rick had gotten the gate closed, and Glenn, Maggie, and T Dog had handled the last couple of walkers. 

T Dog went running to let the others in, but Rick told him to stop. 

"It looks secure," Glenn said, confused. 

"Not from the look of that courtyard over there," Daryl put in. "And that's a civilian," he added, pointing to one of the downed walkers. 

"So the interior could be overrun," T Dog said. 

"We can't risk a blind spot," Rick decided. "We have to push in."


	21. Cell Block Sweet Cell Block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I chickened out. It's not really smut. It's more smut-adjacent. Whatever, enjoy!

You cleared a cell block. An entire cell block. 

Lori and Carol were beside themselves. Beth and Carl started exploring and claiming cells immediately. (And just as Daryl had predicted, the moment you came around to get them, the kid had come flying to your side for a hug.) Glenn and Maggie had disappeared into a cell together awhile ago, and you hadn't seen them since. 

"What about the rest of the prison?" Hershel asked. 

"In the morning, we'll find the cafeteria and the infirmary," Rick answered. "I found keys on some guards. Daryl had a set too." 

"I ain't sleepin' in no cage," Daryl said in your ear. You were leaning against the railing on the upper landing. He came up behind you, leaning against you, his arms on either side of you, gripping the railing. You shuddered. 

"Hell no," you agreed. "So where are we gonna crash, Dixon?" 

He was quiet a moment, his breath tickling your ear. "There's a couple of guard towers out there. We can claim one if you want." He lifted one hand to tuck some of your short hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your neck. 

"That sounds like an excellent plan," you agreed. 

"I'll tell Rick," he said, heading to the stairs. He drew his hand over your back as he went, and you followed him with your eyes the whole way. 

"Careful," Maggie's voice came from behind you. She and Glenn had claimed the furthest cell on the upper level, and it didn't take a genius for you figure out why. 

You looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. She grinned and nodded in Daryl's direction. 

"He might catch on fire from that look you're givin' him," she said, and you flushed. 

"What?" you muttered self-consciously. "No, I- we were- he's just tellin' Rick where we've decided to sleep." 

"Mmm," she said, coming over to lean beside you. "I heard. And let me tell you, I wish I'd thought about those guard towers first." 

You grinned and she bumped your shoulder with hers. 

"Take some friendly advice?" she asked. 

You shrugged. "I won't say no to it." 

"We've been on the road a long time. Close quarters and all that. So I know you guys haven't exactly...." she gestured. 

You grimaced. "What are we, camp gossip?" you grumbled, and she laughed.   
"Of course you are! So are Glenn and I. There isn't anything else to do but talk," she said, reasonably. "Anyway, my friendly advice? Go get him, girl." 

The laugh escaped before you could help it. "Oh that's your advice, is it?"

She laughed along with you. "You bet. It's the end of the world, YN. Better enjoy it while you can. And I don't see any other man in the world lookin' like that one down there looks at you. Or like you're lookin' at him, right now," she added, patting your shoulder. "Now go on, get down there." 

You grinned at her, feeling a little wild, a little dizzy with everything that was happening, and headed down the stairs. You said your goodnights as you went, and Rick squeezed your shoulder as you headed outside. 

"I'm setting a watch post on the corner tower, but the rest are free," he said simply, but you could see the amusement he was trying to hide dancing in his eyes. 

You decided to ignore that. 

You nodded, and followed Daryl out into the night. 

 

The cool air on your skin sealed it for you. You'd spent too many nights out in the open for the past year or so. Being cooped up in the cell block would have driven you mad in a few hours. Invigorated, you opened your arms wide and spun around in place in the field. 

Daryl just watched you, thumbs hooked in his belt and a small smile on his face. 

"Come on, Dixon," you teased. "Look at what we've got here. Walls, fences, security. For the first time in months!" 

You laughed with the sheer relief of being able to relax, and in a sudden burst of movement, darted forward and boosted yourself up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, and he didn't even sway back as your weight hit him, just caught you with his arms around your waist and held you up. 

"Hey there," he said, that smile tugging at his lips. "Wanna go claim our spot?" 

You grinned and went to jump back down, but he held you where you were, walking toward the nearest tower- just inside the first gate you and Rick had gotten closed. You laughed again as he opened the door and started up the stairs, you still wrapped around him and holding on. 

"Anyone ever tell you you're a little crazy, Dixon?" you asked, bringing your lips to his shoulder and then his neck. 

"About as much as they tell me I'm an asshole, I'd say." 

You were grinning, going wild with adrenaline and joy and the sense of security. Wild with the strength of him, as he kicked open the door and carried you through it, into the tower room. Wild with the power in him, strong enough to hold you up or pin you down, smart enough to know which to do. Wild with the memories of him in motion, matching you knife stroke to knife stroke, trusting you to handle yourself like you did him. He was strong enough to take you head on but self-assured enough not hold you back, simply watching your back instead. 

God, what an incredible feeling.

God, what an incredible man.

Then he backed you up against the glass of the wall, his hands on either side of you, pressed flush to the glass, and you were eye to eye. You met his eyes and saw that same exhilaration, same wild primal celebratory energy. 

You were here. You were together. You had survived. 

You glanced beyond him, just for a moment, out of the glass around you and into the darkness of the Georgia night, and you were driven wild with the sight of the prison, the walls, the woods, all laid out before you, and your breath caught at the sight of the brilliant stars, the night sky a fireworks show just for the two of you. 

Then you were looking back in his eyes and everything else fell away, and you were closing that last millimeter of space between you and taking his mouth with yours, biting on his lip just to see what he would do, and he growled- oh Jesus, he growled- into your mouth, and you felt that sound pool in your stomach like liquid fire.

And you were gone. 

You were lost in the feel of him, his arms under your hands, his hands on your body, your legs wrapped around him. You were lost in the sound of his breath, ragged in your ears as you licked and kissed and tasted your way up his neck, to his ear. You were lost in the way he groaned as you bit down on his earlobe, in the way he grabbed your hands and pinned them roughly to the glass behind you. 

You were lost in the way he whispered a challenge to you not to move. 

And oh, oh, oh, your body lit up like lightening as his hands found their way under your shirt, skimming your sides and pulling you to him as your feet were forced to the floor to keep you upright. 

Then it was all lips and teeth and warm breath cruising down your neck and over your collarbone; moans you didn't know were yours until they were already carried away into the night; and his fingers, moving slowly up your back, tracing every bump in your spine with excruciating attention to detail. 

"I want to see you," he whispered into your mouth. "I want to touch- and taste- every inch of you. Tell me you want me to," he demanded. "Tell me you want this." 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged his head back so you could look him in the eyes. "I want you," you snarled. "I want this." 

And then your lips were on his again, and his hands were moving over you again, and you thought maybe, just maybe, this is what it felt like to die of pleasure.


	22. It's Nice to Know Nothing Really Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussions of past emotional/physical/sexual abuse (very general)  
> discussions of past self-harm (very general)  
> cannon-typical violence

You woke naked and happy, tangled around Daryl. He'd already thought of the guard tower before talking to you, and you'd laughed when you'd realized he'd drug in two mattresses and a couple of blankets. 

Now dawn light filtered into the room and you lightly traced the scars on his back. He lay on his stomach, one arm thrown over you where you curled up on your side, facing him. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn't really asleep. 

"Good morning, Dixon," you whispered, your fingers moving up to play with his hair, brushing it back from his eyes. 

He finally opened those eyes, and smiled lazily at you. He shifted around until he was on his back, pulling you into him. You curled against his chest with a little sigh. 

It was familiar as breathing, laying on his chest like this and listening to his heartbeat, and yet it was totally new. You'd been together like this for months, but never- never together, not like you were now. Not like you'd been last night. 

"Hey," he said, tapping your shoulder. "You're thinkin' too loud, woman." 

You laughed. "Sorry. I'll try to keep it down." 

"Ain't havin' second thoughts, are you?" 

You pushed up to your elbow to meet his eyes. "Never," you said with a smile. 

He just stared at you, one hand reaching up to your cheek. "Damn, woman, you are beautiful." 

You felt yourself blush and laid your head back on his chest. "If you say so," you said quietly. 

"Don't start that. Don't," he insisted, tugging you up to look at him. "I can see you thinkin' about whoever it was. Things he said and made you believe. Don't." 

You just shook your head at him mutely. 

You'd been ok, really, until he had looked at you like that and called you beautiful. You'd had no trouble having sex with him, no trouble sleeping in his arms, but now, here in the light, with nothing between you but cool morning air-

You drew the blanket up around your shoulders, huddling into it. You hated how fast old fears could creep in and steal all your confidence and suck all the joy from a moment. 

He sat up, facing you, and waited. 

He was good at waiting. 

Eventually, you started to talk. It all came pouring out, the way you'd met, the lies he'd told, the way he got you to believe you were nothing, ugly and unloved before him, and you'd be nothing without him. The things he'd forced you to do. 

The way you'd stabbed a pair of kitchen scissors into his neck and ran away without looking back when the dead started eating people. 

He'd strongly approved of that one. 

You told him about the scars on your ribs and some of the ones on your arms, and how you'd been so painfully young when it all started, and you couldn't even understand how wildly different a person you were now and who you were then. 

And when you'd poured it all out to him, the whole sordid story, he'd pulled you close and whispered in your ear. "I was right before. You're a damn survivor. And you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Then he told you about his father, and his brother, and the ways they'd broken him down just as much as you'd been broken down, and it wasn't until later you'd realized how very in love with him you were. And you realized, maybe talking about it, sharing the broken, was its own source of joy.

You didn't say it, not yet, because you couldn't. But that was ok. It was enough for you, right now, to know you loved him.

You were wrapped back up in each other, forgetting about the others in the cell block and the walkers outside when Rick's voice broke the stillness and called you back to earth. 

 

It was time to look for the cafeteria and the infirmary. You'd walked down from the tower a few minutes after Rick had called, both of you blushing a little, both of you disheveled, but dressed at least. 

Daryl's vest was around your shoulders and you were shoving desperately at your newly short hair, but there was no way you looked anything close to decent. 

Rumpled, used, and thoroughly satisfied, yes, and weren't you just pleased with yourselves? 

"I trust y'all had a good night," Rick drawled, lips pressed together tightly in what you appreciated was an attempt not to bust out laughing. 

"Yeah, we did," Daryl answered, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his voice. You clapped your hands over your eyes as Rick cracked up. 

"Oh my God, Dixon!" you said, and he pulled you against him as he laughed. 

Great, now they were both laughing at you. Fine, whatever. If you can't beat them, join them. 

"Oh, whatever! It's not like you're wrong!" you told him, and Rick whistled appreciatively. 

"Sorry to break up your fun, but we got work to do," he said with a smile. 

You guys sobered up and nodded, following him back into the cell block as he talked. You braced yourself for what the others were going to say, but Lori ignored you, Carol just grinned, Glenn gave Daryl a thumb's up when he thought you couldn't see him, and Maggie winked at you outrageously. 

And that was it. 

 

This time Hershel was going with your group. T Dog, Carl, and Shane would stay behind to guard the others. Carl handled that better than he had last time, and you were grateful. 

He gave you a hug as you left, and Daryl too. 

"See ya later, kid," you said with a wave, and then you were taking point with Rick again, Maggie, Glenn, and Hershel in the middle and Daryl bringing up the rear.  
Glenn was spraying markers on the walls so you could find your way back. Everything was going fine, until, true to your luck, it wasn't. 

Maggie and Glenn went one way, the rest of you went the other. After a hurried conversation, you were heading back through the halls looking for them, taking down walkers as you went. 

Then Hershel started screaming, and you all found each other. 

You were in the floor of the cafeteria, and Rick was wrapping his belt around Hershel's leg and saying he was going to save his life. 

Hershel was screaming and Maggie was crying; Rick had an ax; and the next thing you knew, Hershel was passed out and his lower leg was on the floor and Rick looked as traumatized as you felt. Somehow, he was still moving and you were impressed, because you felt like sitting in a corner and rocking back and forth for a while. 

A flicker of movement caught your eye behind Rick and you whispered, "duck!" 

Rick dropped, and your bow was up and Daryl was holding the doors against the walkers, and there stood five other people, inmates from the looks of them. 

"Holy shit," one whispered.


	23. I Mean, This Might As Well Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence

"Come on, YN, we need to go! Leave them!" Rick's voice was the only one you were listening to, bow trained on the man with the gun behind the barricade. The other four had their hands up, with the wide glassy eyes of people shocked by the brutality your group was displaying. 

You'd held them back as Glenn went behind the barricade, grabbing a rolling cart, and covered him until he was behind you again, and now you backed out of the doors slowly, trusting Daryl and Rick to have your back while you had theirs. Then the doors swung shut, and Daryl was tapping your shoulder, and you were running back to Cell Block C behind the others. 

Getting back was a blur, a mad dash for Hershel's life, but you were more concerned with the voices and footsteps you could hear behind you. As Daryl unlocked doors and hustled the group inside, Shane appeared at your side, gun in hand, trained on the doorway. 

"How many?" he asked, his voice the all-business tone of battle that you could respect, instead of the Deputy Assface sneer you'd come to hate. 

"Five," you answered. 

"Five? What are you waiting on then? Can't you handle five on your own?" 

Oh look, there's the asshole tone. 

"It's five live people, you asshole," you hissed, not looking away from the doors. 

Shane's gun, which he had relaxed, turning to look at you when you'd told him the number approaching, snapped back up and the business voice returned. "Live people? What the hell?" 

"Prisoners. In the cafeteria. There was no time to deal with them back there, we had to get Hershel back here." 

"You're slipping, YN," he accused. "Couldn't you have done both?" 

"Rick axed Hershel's leg off!" you snapped back at him, irritated. "Next time, you handle five people while Rick's screamin' at you about Hershel bleedin' out and everyone else is runnin' around through your line of fire, and oh yeah- the damn dead are comin' up behind you!" 

"Temper, temper," Shane teased, and you would have flipped him off if you'd been able to take a hand off your bow. 

Luckily, you were spared any further conversion with Shane, as the five prisoners came around the corner. 

"That's far enough," you told them, as the long haired one with the gun came through the doorway.

"Cell Block C. Cell four- that's mine," he said, gesturing behind you. "Let me in." 

"Today's your lucky day, fellas," Daryl's drawled. "You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go."

Your lips quirked upward for a second. You liked snark in a man. 

"What you got going on in there?" one of the others asked. The leader kept moving further into the room, and you moved with him, keeping your bow steady. Shane and Daryl did to, keeping their weapons trained on the others. 

"That's none of your concern," Shane said, and the leader's eyes narrowed. 

"Don't you be telling me what's my concern!" he snapped, puffing out his chest. 

"Chill, man. Dude's leg is messed up," one of the others said. "Besides, we're free now. Why are we still here?" 

You tuned out of the conversation for awhile, hearing but not really listening as they traded insults and threats with Daryl and Shane. You were focused on the leader, studying the way he moved, the way his body looked when he was angry or when he started to calm down. His gun swung wildly, in one of those grips that people think look cool, but makes it impossible to truly aim. He moved it from you to Daryl to Shane, not really knowing who the biggest threat was. 

Newsflash, Cocky Bastard, it was you. 

Then Rick was there, as the leader- Tomas, one of the others had called him, but you liked your name for him better- and Shane started yelling at each other. 

"Everyone relax! There's no need for this!"

"How many of you in there?" Tomas asked. 

"Too many for you to handle," you said, speaking up for the first time in awhile. Tomas' eyes landed on you for a second, then went back to Rick and Daryl and Shane, clearly dismissing you as just a woman. 

Sexist asshole, then, not just a regular asshole. His mistake. 

You worked your way behind the leader without him noticing as they revealed that they'd been in the cafeteria for about ten months, and had no idea about the outbreak or the state of the world outside. 

"Ain't no way," the leader said, dismissing Rick's words. Rick shrugged. 

"See for yourself." 

 

You shadowed them outside, bow on your back now, but a pistol in your hand. They were still talking, wandering around the yard as they discussed things with Rick and Daryl. Shane was still with you, but stayed silent and watchful. 

You kept on the leader, hovering close enough that you could take him out if he twitched Rick's way. 

Rick and Tomas worked out an agreement, in true Rick fashion. You saw Shane shaking his head as Rick agreed to help them clean out another cell block in exchange for half their food. 

"Bet you got more food than you got choices," Rick told the short one when he argued. "You pay, we'll play." 

Damn, Rick was getting all sassypants too. He'd been around you for too long. You caught Daryl's eye where he stood, crossbow up, guarding Rick. He winked at your grin, knowing what you were thinking. 

 

They led you to the cafeteria. The others were all busy with Hershel, so Rick jerked his head at you, Daryl and Shane, and the four of you followed the five prisoners. Daryl dropped back a bit to your side, where you trailed behind the larger group to watch for walkers. 

"I don't like this," you said quietly. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "And I don't like Shane bein' here while we do it. Rick's got his way, and he's lookin' to keep everyone alive." 

You nodded. "But is Cocky Bastard? I doubt it. And I wonder what havin' what seems like options is gonna do to Shane." These guys were the first living people you'd seen since leaving the farm. Shane might decide to team up with them and try (emphasis on try) to take over the prison.

Daryl's eyes darkened. "Rick needs to cut him loose before I do." 

You bumped his shoulder with yours, and then you had reached the cafeteria and there was no more time for talking. 

You were back on Tomas's ass, tuning out the conversations as you focused on his body language as he lead you into the pantry. The sheer amount of food on the shelves caught your attention, just for a moment, and then you were back to just watching the leader. 

Even you had to laugh a little at Rick's reaction when he opened the room they'd been using as a bathroom for ten months. Hey, funny is funny, even if it was the bad guys. 

 

Hauling the food back required more trust than you were comfortable with, so you stayed, perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria and covering your friends as they brought stuff back and forth. Daryl shot you a glare that clearly said he wanted to argue, but couldn't.

Then the three of them were back, with hand to hand weapons for the inmates, so you could clear another cell block for them. 

"Why do I need this, when I've got this?" Cocky Bastard said, holding out a crowbar and lifting his shirt to show off his (not very impressive) abs and the gun shoved into his waistband. 

You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but the effort was enough to make your eyelid twitch. 

"You don't fire guns. Not unless your back's up against the wall," The deep disgust in Daryl's voice was evident. He stood at Rick's shoulder. "Noise attracts them. Really riles them up." 

You were leaning against the wall behind Rick, Daryl's crossbow drawn and in one hand. He'd handed it to you before heading back with an armload of canned goods, and hadn't come to reclaim it yet. Shane was at Rick's other side, and the five prisoners were lined up opposite them, with a table between. 

Rick hadn't brought any of the real weapons with him for these clowns, and you were glad he showed some common sense there. One man took up a baseball bat, and the others had bits of pipe or other big pointy items, not any of the groups blades. 

"We'll go in two by two," Rick said. "Daryl and Shane will run point. I'll bring up the rear with YN. Stay tight, hold formation, no matter how close the walkers get. Anyone breaks ranks, we could all go down. Anyone runs off, they could get mistaken for a walker, end up with an ax to the head." 

Because Rick was apparently keeping the ax now. Cowboy was getting pretty badass. 

"These things only go down with a head shot," Shane put in. 

"You ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man," Cocky Bastard said. "But why we taking the chick?" 

"Just remember to go for the brain," you said wearily. "Come on, people, we have bigger fish to fry than these clowns." You gestured toward the door with Daryl's crossbow, pushed yourself off the wall, and went to stand impatiently in the doorway. 

"I don't think I want no chick behind me with a weapon like that. You even know how to use that, beautiful?" Cocky Bastard sneered at you, coming over to stand in front of you. 

You glanced at Daryl, and he just looked amused. 

It was nice to know he knew you could wipe the floor with this asshole. 

You sighed, focusing on the idiot in front of you. "Actually, this is Daryl's. He'll be taking it with him to the front." You held the crossbow out to Daryl, and Tomas' sneer turned into a smirk, like he'd won something as Daryl took it from your hand. 

"This is mine," you continued conversationally, and your own bow was in your hands and drawn before he looked back at you from grinning at his friends. He looked back to an arrow brushing the tip of his nose and he went cross-eyed looking at it. The others behind him started forward, but their movement died just as soon as it began when Cocky Bastard started laughing. 

"Fair enough, chica. Fair enough," he said, stepping back with his hands raised. "Alright, let's do this."


	24. Yeah, Sure, This Seems Legit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> minor character death

"You're gonna hear them before you see them." 

You barely heard Daryl's whisper from the front of your group.

The prisoners, however, you heard loud and clear, especially when they started yelling and ran toward the two walkers that came around the corner, hitting and kicking them, stabbing them over and over again while they yelled. But they were hitting the body, not the brain, and the four of you just stood there, shaking your heads as the walkers just kept coming for them. 

Finally, you drew, fired, repeat; dropping both walkers. You retrieved your arrows as the group went on, Daryl coaching them in a low voice. 

"Stay in tight formation. No more prison riot crap," Rick ordered after they'd dropped another group of four. 

More walkers came around in front, but you were keeping an eye on the rear. Your two by two formation had disappeared, and Rick was back up at the front with Daryl now. Suddenly, the one they called Big Tiny caught your eye, easing back into the passage to the other side of you. You started to call to him, but it was too late, and he was bit. 

Then Cocky Bastard Tomas fired past your shoulder, putting three bullets into the walker when one would have done, and coming close to hitting you in the process. 

"Hey!" Rick yelled, grabbing the leader and tearing into him about firing the gun. You turned your attention to Big Tiny, turning him around to study the mark on his back. 

"I'm telling you, I don't feel anything. It's just a scratch," he reassured you. The group started arguing, everyone gathered around you, and you were trying to ease back, catching sight of Tomas coming up over one of his friends' shoulders. 

"I'm all rig-" Big Tiny went down as Tomas slammed his crowbar into the other man's skull, inches from you. Then you were backing away, bumping back into Daryl who gripped your arm tightly as Tomas dropped down and hit Big Tiny again and again with the crowbar, soaking himself and the hallway in blood. 

This asshat was seriously bad news. 

 

Rick dropped back beside you again as the group moved forward. 

"You see the look on his face?" Rick asked you quietly, and you nodded. 

"Just give me a signal," you assured Rick, and he nodded and stepped up ahead of you again. 

Shane was the first through the door into the laundry room. You brought up the rear, and traded your bow for your knife as you cleared the room. Rick slid his keys across the floor to Tomas. 

"If you want this cell block, you're gonna open that door. Just the one, not both of them. Because we need to control this," Rick told him. 

But, of course, it wasn't that fucking simple. 

 

The prisoners were arranged in a semi circle around the doorway. Rick, Shane, and Daryl stood with them. You dropped back a couple of steps, watching your people's backs. 

"You bitches ready?" Tomas asked, and jerked open both doors. 

Because of course he did. Dumbass Cocky Bastard. 

Rick was yelling at him as he ran in and pulled the idiot back. 

Six walkers came through all at once. Honestly, you weren't worried. You knew Rick and Daryl could have handled it on their own, and with Shane as well, it would be an easy clean up. The problem was, Rick, Daryl, and Shane had to worry about the idiot civilians as well. 

They weren't doing too badly, really, but the walkers kept coming around the corner, and soon everyone was engaged except you. You were poised and ready to join the fight if you needed to, but you wanted to stay a little aloof. Just in case. 

It's a damn good thing you were, because you saw when Tomas gave what could have been just a wild swing. Rick ducked back, and you saw the look he was giving Tomas, and you knew he was thinking the same thing you were. 

Rick moved back into the fight, a little warily, but you kept your eye on Tomas, inching closer. So you saw Cocky Bastard duck behind a walker and shove it, very deliberately, into Rick. 

Rick went to the floor, the walker on top of him, but you were already in motion. Your knife was in and out of the walker's head in moments and you pulled Rick to his feet. 

Just like that, the fight was over, and Rick was squared off with Cocky Bastard. 

"He was comin' at me, bro," Tomas said with a shrug, and Rick looked over at you. 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he said. 

Before the words had all left his mouth, you stepped to Tomas' side and your knife went up and under his chin, and he dropped like a stone as you drew it back. 

"Shit happens," Rick said conversationally as you flicked the blood from your knife. 

One of the others, the little guy who had objected to sharing their food, came running at Rick with his bat. Rick gave him a shove, the guy went down, and Daryl was standing at your side with his crossbow aimed. The guy scrambled to his feet and ran. 

"I got him," you called and took off in pursuit. You knew the boys would handle the other two. 

 

You were right behind him, but he knew the prison better than you did, and you hesitated when you came around one corner. That was all it took for him to make it out a side door and into a courtyard full of walkers. 

You shoved open the door and started out behind him, but backed up rapidly when you saw the walkers turning toward the guy. You slid the gate closed swiftly as he came racing back toward you. 

"Let me back in, man! Let me back in!" he begged, grabbing the bars. "Open it up! Open it up!" 

You just gave him a cold look as the walkers closed in. "You'd better run." 

You watched as his eyes went wide, then you swung the heavy door closed. You closed your eyes for a moment as you heard the screaming start. He'd attacked your friends, but still, eaten by walkers was a bad way to go. 

"Damn, sweetheart, I didn't think you were that cold." 

Shit. 

Shane.


	25. Ok, To Be Fair, You Hadn't Seen This One Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

"Shane," you said warily, eyes snapping open. You shifted your grip on your knife, just a bit. 

You'd had no idea he'd followed you. 

You wondered if Daryl knew he followed you. 

He came ambling out of the shadows, and without being conscious of it, you shifted to the side as he came forward. You didn't want to get trapped against the door. 

The air was charged. Shane had that look, those vacant eyes that made you think maybe no one was really home in there. 

"I'm gettin' so sick of you," Shane said conversationally. 

"The feeling is mutual," you muttered. 

"See, that right there is what I'm talking about," he snapped. "You got a smart mouth, girl. Someone needs to teach you a lesson about it." 

"Yeah?" you asked, genuinely amused. "Think it should be you?" 

Shane stepped toward you again, and you stepped back and to the side. Your back brushed the wall, and you slid a little more. 

He had that machete in his hand, swinging it idly. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I think it should be me."

"What are you gonna do, Shane?" you asked softly. He stepped forward, you stepped back. 

Shift your weight forward on your feet. Get ready to move. Get ready to fight. 

"You gonna try to show me what a mouth like mine is really for? Gonna teach me where my place is? I've heard it all before. Been shown it all before." 

He snorted, dropping his head and then looking back up at you from the side, a look you'd long since listed as a 'Shane is pissed' tell. "What happened then?" he asked. 

You shrugged.

"Didn't stick. Scissors did, though. Nice sharp ones, sticking out of his neck." You nodded in his direction. "Knife'll do for yours, if it needs to." 

Shane snarled. "You are such a bitch. You killed a man just now, two even if you count that kid, and you're tellin' me you killed a man before. And you've been sitting around here for months, proclaiming judgement over me? Me?" 

Almost there. You could see it, feel it, in the air and in the way he moved. It was in the way his eyes flickered, and he didn't make the big, crazy gestures he made when he was just yelling and being a shithead. This was real. 

You flashed him your cockiest grin. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I'm better than you, Shane. I'm a survivor. You're just a murderer, and an attempted rapist. Not even a real one, not like the man whose neck I put kitchen sheers in right after the world went crazy. Just an attempted rapist. Couldn't finish that job. Got taken out by little old me each time." 

You were goading him, taunting him, pushing him to the edge. 

He outweighed you, and he was one of the living. That gave him an advantage. He'd been a cop, so he'd had more training than you, so that was an advantage. 

But if you could get him angry, and keep him off balance, and if you could keep him turning- 

Maybe you could do this. Maybe you'd survive this. 

Maybe you'd be able to run. 

"I see what you're doing, YN," he said. "I see how you're trying to turn me around, so you've got that hallway at your back and you can run. I know you're trying to piss me off, make me sloppy." 

Well, damn. 

"Is it workin'?" you asked. Iron started to fill your lungs, the way it hadn't in months. Your vision started to blur at the edges, and you could feel the fog rolling into your brain as you started to panic. 

If you had a panic attack now, you were dead. 

Only three options: play for time, run, or attack. 

Shane chose attack.


	26. This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> discussion of past abuse   
> discussion of past rape/non con  
> past victim blaming

He was on you in a flash, and maybe you were the badass Carl believed against walkers, but this was a real live person, who had training in this crap and wasn't distracted by other people. And he was close, too close you realized now; and basically, you were fucked before the fight even began. 

Should have run, damn it. 

Should have screamed!

But Shane's arm was over your throat- son of a bitch, you'd been here before with this man, hadn't you?- and this time he wasn't looking for a roll in the hay. 

He was going to kill you, and you weren't entirely sure there was anything you could do to stop him. 

You could breathe, but only barely, because you'd ducked your chin down enough to keep his arm from completely crushing your throat. But he had slammed you into the wall when he rushed you, and his other hand had your arm, your knife arm, pinned to the wall. You struggled, desperate, all thoughts gone except one: survive. 

 

You'd been choked before, by someone else's hands, and you'd been as helpless then as you felt now. 

It was a lifetime ago, it felt like, when the man who claimed to love you had held you down, draining the life from you slowly while he took what he wanted from your body, and told you over and over that it was your fault. You shouldn't have made him angry. You shouldn't have flirted with that cashier at the grocery store. You shouldn't have worn those shorts, never mind the high-summer Georgia heat, and you shouldn't have worn that bra or those underwear, and a thousand and one other things that made it your fault that he was about to kill you. 

You didn't die that day, and you damn well weren't going to die trapped against this wall either. 

It was a lifetime ago, and you had lived a very different life since then. Now, you were the walker-killing-badass; you were Rick's right-hand man (well, woman); you were Daryl's girl. 

You were a goddamn survivor. 

So fucking survive!

 

Your leg came up and you drove your knee into Shane's crotch. He yelled, and his grip on your arm loosened just enough for you to jerk your arm sideways, breaking his hold. 

You swung blindly, with no real plan except 'get some oxygen now, please', and too your eternal surprise (which might not be all that long, really, the way today was going), you felt it connect with Shane's flesh, and then his arm was moving from your neck and you pushed forward with all your might and-

Hot damn, you were free. 

You backed away from him, bringing your knife up in front of you again as you sucked in huge lungfuls of air. 

"Oh, you are gonna pay for this, bitch," Shane snarled, and you saw that his arm was covered in blood from where your knife had hit. 

You didn't bother to respond, concentrating instead on his movements, looking for tells. 

He had too much training, though, and he was moving without giving you any sign of what he had planned. He feinted left and then broke right, and he was back up in your space again before you could get away. This time he grabbed you and pulled your back against him, pinning your knife hand against your side with his arm and grabbing a handful of your hair with the other hand and yanking back, hard, until your head was bent back at an awful angle. 

You could feel his erection pressed against you. 

Oh shit. 

Wait, he'd been trying to kill you earlier, now he wanted to fuck? This was confusing.

"I'm so tired," he jerked on your hair again to emphasize the word, "of the way you make me feel. I saw you. I saw you and Daryl," he spat out the name like it was dog shit, "in the tower. Now, it's gonna be my turn. Then I'm going to kill you. That prisoner running was the perfect opening. Rick and Lover Boy in there didn't even see me leave. Now, drop the knife. Drop it!" he snapped. 

Yeah, how about no? 

You took a deep breath, and followed your plan of last resort. 

You screamed, with everything your bruised and strained throat could muster.


	27. You Seem To Be Making a Habit of This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> major character death

"What the hell is wrong with you, girl?" Shane snarled in your ear, taking his hand out of your hair to cover your mouth and keep you from screaming again. 

Excuse you? Was he seriously asking what the hell was wrong with you? He's the one attacking you- for the third fucking time, no less- and trying to kill you! 

You were offended, genuinely offended, and a tiny portion of your brain urgently informed you that maybe instead of being offended, you should spend some time being terrified instead. 

You squashed that thought like a bug. You didn't have time for terror. You could be terrified later. 

Oh yeah, let's make sure to pencil in one total mental breakdown for later. Assuming, of course, you survived. The odds on that weren't looking to great at the moment.

"You tryin' to bring every fucking walker in the building down on us?" Shane continued, dragging you, quite literally, down the hallway. 

No, the walkers weren't really who you'd been aiming for, but now that he mentioned it, they'd be a welcome distraction too if they wanted to show up. 

He was still pulling you down the hallway, though you were using every (very small) advantage and opportunity you had to make it harder for him. Come on, come on, come on. 

That little corner of your mind was starting to get bigger. Gibbering in panic was pretty sure to come. 

Shane managed to pull you around a corner, despite your struggles, and you had another brilliant idea. 

You bit his hand. 

He yanked it away from your mouth, but before you could congratulate yourself on your brilliance, he'd locked it over your mouth again, and you realized you hadn't really gotten much of a bite. Oh well, you tried, and it served as a distraction for phase two. 

Mid-struggle, you went absolutely boneless- utterly lifeless, nothing holding you up, would have crashed to the floor if he hadn't been holding you so tightly. 

"Would you just stop!" Shane screamed in your ear as he wrestled with your suddenly-limp body. "Just fucking stop!" 

Then you heard a familiar twang, and Shane was jerking back and letting go of you, and you hit the floor hard. But that was ok, you were almost expecting it, so you rolled away from Shane and scrambled up to your feet. Somehow your knife was still in your hand and you were looking around for Shane wildly, determined not to get caught again and-

Oh. 

Oh, god.

 

"I didn't think you'd be one for faintin'." It was Daryl's voice, but it wasn't Daryl's voice. There was something very much not right about Daryl's voice, and part of you was wondering what that was all about. 

The rest of you was busy being personally affronted by the suggestion that you would ever faint, while also struggling to figure out why the room was so dark. You'd been feeling offended a lot lately. You were getting kind of sick of it.

Oh, hey, your eyes were closed. 

Funny, you were pretty sure you were laying down, too, on something soft. How did that happen? 

Holy shit, maybe you had fainted. Wait, why would you have fainted? 

Your eyes shot open and you tried to come to your feet, but Daryl was right there to grab your shoulders and hold you in place. 

"Stay put, woman!" he snapped. "You hit your head damn hard when you went down. Hershel thinks you've got a concussion." 

Hershel thinks? Last you'd seen Hershel, he was passed out, white as a sheet, and gushing blood. You'd been pretty damn certain Hershel was going to die, and you'd been worried about Lori and her maybe-dead-already baby and-

Shane. 

"Shane?" you croaked, grabbing Daryl's vest tightly, your eyes darting around the room. Your lungs were tight; you couldn't breathe; there was something on your throat that felt like an arm, pressing down and blocking air and-

"Hey, hey, hey. YN. Calm down. Breathe with me. That's it, woman, come on," Daryl's voice was a steady soothing rhythm, calling you out of the panic like he'd done the day Dale died, and suddenly you could breathe again. 

Your grip on his vest relaxed, but you needed to be sitting up. Daryl was crouched beside the lower bunk of a cell, and he helped you ease upright slowly. 

The world only spun slightly nauseatingly, so you'd call it a win. When you were sitting all the way up, feet planted firmly on the floor, he shifted around so that he was kneeling in front of you. He had a grip on one of your hands so tight his knuckles were white. 

You gave him a tight smile and put your other hand on top of his where he held yours so tightly. 

"Daryl," you tried again, and your voice sounded like you'd been eating gravel for six weeks. "Shane." You didn't think you were up for more than one word sentences yet. 

Daryl's eyes were blank. "Dead," he answered, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. You felt your shoulders sag in relief and you nodded. 

"Here," he said, turning away from you a little to reach out and grab a bottle of water from the floor. "Drink this before you try to talk again." 

You slid your hands from his and took the bottle. You raised it to your lips, and you realized your hands were shaking. 

Hell, your whole body was trembling. 

Oh, ok, wait. You were alive. Shane was dead. (Your brain provided a rather hazy maybe-memory impression of Shane's body crumpled on the floor with a crossbow bolt between the eyes, but you were trying very hard to ignore that.) That means you'd made it out of there. 

"I think it's time for that mental breakdown now," you muttered, and then you were bent in half and trying to remember to breathe and you were sobbing and oh shit oh shit oh shit you were going to throw up, you just knew it-

But then Daryl pulled you off the bed and into his lap, and that was better; and then his arms were around you tightly and he was whispering things you couldn't understand into your ear as he rocked back and forth and you felt something damp on your hair and you realized he was crying, too. 

Daryl crying made you feel worse, not better, and vaguely guilty, but it did help clear the shock from your system and after another minute where your brain just kind of shut down and then rebooted, like a computer installing updates, you were back. 

Your throat hurt like a son of a bitch, and your back was basically one giant bruise, and your head ached, particularly in one spot on your forehead where you guessed you'd become rather violently acquainted with the concrete floor. But it was like you'd downloaded the 'Survived Some More Shit' update, and now you were processing again. 

Oh boy, a shrink would have some fun with you someday. 

"Ok," you whispered, sitting back a bit in Daryl's arms. "Ok. I'm alive. You're alive. Shane's dead- thank you for that, by the way. I was kinda worried I wasn't makin' it out of that one." 

He snarled and his hands clenched on your back. "So was I, woman. Don't ever do that shit again." 

A laugh bubbled out of you. It sounded vaguely insane, but that was ok because you were feeling vaguely insane anyway. 

"Ok, Dixon. I think I can pretty easily promise not to be cornered alone with a psychotic rapist-murderer with a personal vendetta against me in a prison corridor surrounded by the walking dead again," you said in between fits of laughter. "It's not like I'd planned on having that experience the first time around." 

Daryl just pressed his forehead to yours, sliding his hand around to gently cup the back of your head. "Would you just shut up, woman? I'd really like to be kissin' you now. Didn't you tell me to try doin' that instead of yellin' at you?" 

"Mmmm," you gave a hum of agreement, the weird laughter fading away. "I did say that, didn't I? Kissing sounds good," you whispered. 

So you did.


	28. Just One Good Day

You'd been out for about two days. 

Now you were sitting in the sun outside the cell block, and Carl was beside you catching you up on what you'd missed. 

"Hershel stopped breathing and Mom brought him back. Carol's been practicing C sections on walkers, just in case, which is gross, but I've helped her drag some of them in from the fence. It's a good idea. I found the infirmary by myself and brought back all of the supplies there, but Mom got mad at me for going alone." He scowled into the distance. 

"She was right," you said, and he turned that scowl on you. "I'm not sayin' you shouldn't have gone. Just that you shouldn't have gone alone." 

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered. "Anyway, I got the supplies and then Dad and Daryl came back with you and Daryl was half-crazed, and you-" he broke off and glanced at you again. 

"Sorry," he said, and you shrugged. 

"It's all good, kiddo. I'm alive. Sorry about Shane." 

He shook his head, jaw set. "No. Shane was an ass. He deserved it. If Daryl hadn't shot him, I would have." 

"Kid," you started, but he cut you off. 

"No! My Uncle Shane disappeared a long time ago. Dad not being dead made him crazy, and Mom- the baby- made him even crazier. He attacked you, YN! He wasn't my friend anymore for a long time, and I can be glad he's dead!" 

You nodded slowly. Carl was breathing hard, but he let out a huff of air and settled back in beside you. You put one hand on his shoulder and he didn't shrug it off. 

"Anyway, Daryl took you into the cell and he wouldn't let anybody near you. He wouldn't even let anyone come in, not even Dad. He yelled at Dad for not killing Shane a long time ago, and Dad agreed with him. But then Daryl let me come in a few hours later, and I sat with him until Mom made me go get something to eat. Daryl talked to me a little, told me what happened with the prisoners. Dad told everyone what had happened with Shane, and that he'd taken the other two to their cell block like he'd promised. Mom and Dad argued some more about a bunch of stuff, too. Then Hershel woke up! And Daryl let Hershel take a look at you, and he said you probably had a concussion but would be fine. I don't think Daryl believed him though, because he didn't leave the cell for more than a few minutes until you came out too," Carl finished thoughtfully. 

"Man," you said. "I missed a lot. Teach a girl not to faint at the first sign of trouble." 

"Oh, I think you waited a bit longer than the first sign." Rick's voice came from behind you and sounded amused. You turned to look up at him and grinned. 

"Hey, Cowboy. Where's your ax?" 

Rick snorted. "That really what you wanna talk about right now?" 

You stretched and rose, flicking the brim of Carl's hat as you did. "If you're about to tell me thank you or you're sorry, just save it, Rick. I've had about enough of that to last me a lifetime. It's the end of the fuckin' world, man. Sorry Carl," you added quickly, and Carl giggled. "You don't owe me any apologies, and you don't need to thank me again for killing Cocky Bastard, either. He needed killin'." You shrugged, and Rick stared at you for a long moment before nodding. 

"Alright then," you said. "What needs doin'? I've been out for two days. I've got some stiffness to work out." 

"You ain't doin' anything right now, woman," Daryl called from the doorway of the cell block. 

"Like hell I am, Dixon!" you called back, then sprang up on your toes and sprinted toward him, just because you could. You bounced up at the last minute, and he caught you with a little umph. "I'm fit as a fiddle, Dixon, and I'm gonna earn my keep." 

"Anybody ever tell ya you're a little bit insane?" He grumbled at you. You flashed him a grin and kissed this nose. 

"Oh, maybe a few times." You dropped back down out of his arms as Carol and T Dog appeared in the doorway and smiled at you. Rick and Carl had joined your group by now, and everyone was grinning. Daryl wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, and you curled your hands over his and turned back to Rick. 

"Well, Cowboy? What's on the agenda for this mornin'?" 

He pointed toward the gates. "We need to bring those cars in. Then get all the bodies from the cell block and the courtyards and get them dragged out to burn them." 

"Good," Daryl said. "Our vehicles camped out there look like a giant 'vacancy' sign." 

"Gonna be a long day," T Dog said with a sign. 

"Where are Maggie and Glenn?" Carol asked. "We could use the extra hands." 

"They went up to the guard tower," Carl put in. 

You flushed bright red as Rick looked over at you and Daryl. "The guard tower? They were just up there last night." 

You could feel Daryl holding back the laughter behind you, and you tightened your grip on his hand in a wordless threat. 

"Carl, head on inside and see if you can help your mom and Beth with Hershel," Rick said, and Carl nodded and moved past your group. 

The five of you glanced at each other in unspoken agreement and started off toward the yard. 

"Hey Maggie! Glenn!" Daryl yelled when you were close enough. You shook your head, trying not to laugh, as a shirtless Glenn appeared, sticking his head out the door and buttoning his pants as he did. 

"Hey.. What's up, guys?" he called, trying to act casual. 

You bit your lip as Daryl yelled again. 

"You comin'?" 

"What?" Glenn called back, and Rick, Carol, and T Dog proved even the apocalypse doesn't improve people's sense of humor when they started giggling like idiots. 

"You comin'?" Daryl shouted again, and even you started to lose it at Glenn's confused expression. Maggie appeared at his shoulder, looking rumpled and annoyed. 

"We could use a hand," you yelled up, taking pity on her. 

"Yeah, we'll- we'll be right down!" Glenn called, and the two of them disappeared back inside before reappearing at the base of the tower. 

"Sickos, all of you," Maggie muttered as she fell in step beside you. 

 

You got all but one vehicle in the first gate, inside the transition space from outside world to prison, when T Dog called out to Rick and nodded at the fence. 

You looked up saw the other two prisoners walking into the yard. 

"Come with me," Rick snapped, and you and Daryl fell into step on either side of him. "That's close enough!" Rick snarled as the two came down the path to meet you. 

Maggie and Glenn moved in behind them, but none of you were really armed with more than knives. You hadn't thought you'd need anything else inside the gates. 

"We had an agreement," Rick said simply. 

"Please, mister," Handlebar Mustache said. "We know that. But you gotta understand. We can't live in that place another minute." He had his arms wrapped around himself, and you could tell his distress was real. 

The other one, the taller one, had his arms loose, but he was more at the ready. He didn't trust us, especially Rick, and he was worried he was going to be attacked. 

"All the bodies- people we knew! Blood, brains, everywhere. There's ghosts," Handlebar finished, pleading. 

"Why don't you move the bodies out?" Daryl asked. 

"You should be burnin' them," you put in, and Handlebar's eyes lingered on the bruise around your hairline, where you'd hit the deck. 

"We tried," he said. "We did." 

"The fence is down on the far side of the prison. Every time we drag a body out, those things just line up," the other man said. 

"Look, we had nothin' to do with Tomas and Andrew; nothing!" Handlebar moved forward, and Rick eased back, hand hovering over the knife on his belt. You and Daryl were more blatant, and both of you had yours in your hands. You locked eyes with the other guy, leaving Handlebar to Daryl. The other man met your gaze steadily, not making any kind of threatening move. 

"You trying to prove a point? You proved it, bro. We'll do whatever it takes to be part of your group, just please, please.... don't make us live in that place," Handlebar finished. 

"Our deal is non negotiable," Rick said, but you could tell from his voice that he was wavering. "You can either live in your cell block, or you leave." 

"I told you this was a waste of time," the other guy said. He was talking about his friends who were dead, how they had protected them from the really bad dudes in the place. He told Rick that they would rather hit the road than go back, and you believed him. 

You also knew Rick, and he glanced at you and Daryl. Daryl shook his head, just a touch, and Rick's eyes hardened. 

You and Daryl escorted them into the area between fences and locked them in. As you joined the others, Rick was asking if they really wanted to be sleeping in a cell next to those guys. 

"You really wanna go back to sleepin' with one eye open?" you asked the group. 

"I never stopped," T Dog said seriously. "And I know you didn't either. Bring them into the fold. We send them off packing, we might as well execute them ourselves." 

Maggie, Glenn, and Carol were against it. You and Daryl stayed silent as they talked it out. Rick was considering, and T Dog made a good point about taking people in.  
Especially when he pointed out that "those two might actually have less blood on their hands than we do." 

You knew they had less than you. 

Daryl finally chimed in. "I get guys like this. Hell, I grew up with them. They're degenerates, but they ain't psychos. I could have been in there with them just as easy as I'm out here with you guys." 

Rick was nodding as T Dog turned to Daryl. "So you with me?" 

"Hell, naw," Daryl said. "Let 'em take their chances out on the road, just like we did." 

You tuned out again, keeping an eye on the two behind the gate as Rick launched into a story. You honestly didn't care either way the wind blew on this one. Eventually, Rick decided to give the prisoners a week's worth of supplies for the road. T Dog grumbled, but went with you guys to pull the cars in. 

Daryl got the bike started and Handlebar kept trying to talk to him. You kept an amused eye on him as everyone else loaded up, then Daryl jerked his head at you and you swung onto the back of the bike. Handlebar was still going as you drove up to the prison and Glenn closed the gate behind you. 

 

After a quick stop inside the cell block for better weapons, you, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn ducked out of the hole in the fence. Glenn wanted to take out the lone walker, but you couldn't spare the ammo. T Dog, Carol, and Maggie were getting the cars tucked into the side of the cell block.

"We'll start makin' runs soon," Daryl said with a nod your way. "The sooner the better." 

Rick and Glenn were talking about burning the bodies verses burying them, but you tuned out at 'walker-infected soil'. Gross. 

You held the opening in the fence when you got back, Daryl's crossbow in your hands. The guys ducked through the with armloads of wood. 

"Lookie here," you said with a smile and a nod toward the cell block. Hershel, Beth, Carl, and Lori stood at a fence in the courtyard. It was the first time Hershel had really been up and around on his own, and he stood there with his crutches like a champ. You'd learned that Rick and Daryl had basically carried him in to check on you. 

"He is one tough son of a bitch," Glenn said in wonder, and you grinned at the sight of him cheering on his father in law. "Alright, Hershel!" he yelled. 

You and Daryl both hushed him, gesturing toward the walkers outside the fences. 

"Can't we just have one good day?" Glenn lamented. 

And then, of course, all hell broke loose.


	29. All Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> major character death

Carl saw them first, started screaming about walkers. His gun was out and he was firing, steady, careful head shots, urging the others to run. 

The four of you were so far away. You took off running, all of you, but shoved Glenn back with an oath. "Close that hole, damn it!" you yelled, and were off after Daryl and Rick. 

You could watch, but there was no way you'd get there fast enough. 

"Keys! Keys!" Rick was shouting, and Glenn was back behind you guys, hurling the keys to you, and you lobbed them up to Rick, and then he was struggling with the gate. 

You were watching, and Hershel and Beth made it behind one cage at the entrance to a building. Carl was yelling that there was a gate open, standing in front of Lori and still taking his careful head shots. Carol and T Dog were together and fighting, but they weren't safe. 

You heaved a sigh of relief as Maggie got to Carl and Lori, taking them into cell block C and hopefully to safety. Then Rick had the first gate open and you were back with the prisoners, fighting another lock. 

Then you were through, and the four of you were running, and then you were putting down walkers left and right. You were weaving in and out of walkers, the machete Rick had insisted you take to the woods a good deal better than your knife. Longer reach, at least, and you were impressed. You might even keep it.

 

T Dog had gotten the gate closed. You could hear Hershel and Beth talking to Rick. "Maggie got Lori and Carl into C block!" Hershel said. 

"And T was bit!" Beth added, and you felt your heart sink. 

"Anyone else?" Rick asked. 

"I couldn't tell!" 

"Ok, stay put!" Rick told her. 

The four of you gathered back in the middle of the courtyard. 

"Those chains didn't break on their own," Glenn said. "Some took an ax or cutters to them." 

Rick spun around, and death was in his eyes as he looked at the two prisoners who had followed you up to the courtyard. You were ten steps in their direction when the alarm sirens started blaring. 

 

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" Daryl yelled. You were looking around frantically for the source and Rick and Glenn started shooting speakers. No, that wouldn't be enough. You were on the prisoners in a flash, Daryl's crossbow still in your hands. There'd been no time to give it back.

"How in the hell can this be happening?" You snarled. 

"It has to be the backup generators," the quiet one said, hands up. 

Rick grabbed him by the shirt. "Come with us!" he said, and you fell into step with them. 

"We've gotta split up and look for the others," you told Rick. He nodded. 

"Whoever gets to the generators first, shut 'em down!" he yelled. 

 

You ended up with Rick and the quiet one, straining to hold the door to the generator room closed as the other two tried to turn off the blaring alarms. 

"Rick!" you screamed as you saw the scrawny guy, the one you'd been certain was eaten by walkers, come out of nowhere with a pipe wrench. 

Rick wasn't doing to great, and you didn't trust the other prisoner at all to have his back, but there were walkers trying to break down the damn door. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered over the sound of the alarms. You jumped back from the door, letting it slam open, and swept up the crossbow you still hadn't returned to Daryl. You took the shot- bull's eye, thank god, right between the eyes; this wasn't exactly your weapon of choice- and pulled your knife as you cast the bow aside. 

You slammed in, knifing the next walker in the head, and kicked its body back to crash into the next one. Then you slammed the door again and threw your back against it, just in time to turn and see the quiet guy with Rick's gun. 

Pointed at Rick. 

Rick had his hands up in a placating gesture, and the scrawny kid was behind him. 

"Shoot him, Oscar! Shoot him! We can take back this prison! It's our house. Shoot him!" he urged, and for a minute, you really thought Oscar was going to do it.   
But he didn't, shooting the scrawny guy instead, and Rick's eyes were wide. You managed to jam something- a chair maybe? you weren't sure what- under the door and were skidding over to help, but then Oscar flipped the gun around and handed it to Rick. 

The air left your lungs in a rush. 

Rick took back his gun and turned off the generators. "Let's go," he said. 

 

You were moving through the now dark and eerily silent halls when you heard a noise. You gestured for them to stop moving, and you eased around the corner and ran straight into Glenn, Daryl, and Handlebar Mustache. Daryl gave you a once over, then turned to Rick, and you touched the back of his hand as you all moved on together. 

You found T Dog's body a few turns later, two walkers bent over him and ripping him apart. Rick shot them both on the spot, and you turned your face away to hide your tears from the newcomers. Daryl wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his shoulder. 

He stiffened beneath you and you drew back. Daryl reached down and picked up Carol's scarf, the one she'd had wrapped around her head outside, and your heart just dropped. 

Daryl held it for a minute, then stuffed it into his pocket. You slid your hand in his and squeezed, and he squeezed back, hard. You looked at Rick, who nodded, and then you were off again. 

 

Back in the courtyard, you broke into a run. Hershel and Beth were still there, but Maggie, Lori, and Carl were still nowhere. 

"T? Carol?" Hershel asked, and you leaned into Daryl's arm from behind as he shook his head. 

"They didn't make it," Daryl answered. 

"That doesn't mean the others didn't!" Rick snapped. "We're going back."Daryl, YN, Glenn, you come with--" 

You saw them first, and Rick cut off as he saw your face go white. 

Then the baby started to cry.


	30. Blood On Their Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of past abuse  
> discussion of past rape/non con  
> cannon-typical violence

Rick hit the ground, sobbing. Glenn went to Maggie and the baby, and Maggie was crying great hiccuping cries, holding Lori's baby and looking like her world had imploded. 

From the blood on her hands, you could imagine what she'd had to do. 

But you went to Carl. He was standing so still, and Rick brushed right by him, looking at him for a moment before falling to the ground screaming 'No!' over and over. 

Carl just stood there, still, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

There was blood on his hands, too. 

You were at his side in two strides, wrapping him in your arms. He was frozen in your arms for a long moment, but then he melted against you, arms coming up to cling to your shoulders as you fell to your knees in front of him. 

"Carl. Carl. Oh God, I'm so sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry," you just kept repeating it, not knowing what else to do, as you just held on. 

 

You'd cleaned up Carl's hands. He wasn't speaking, just kept staring at the ground, and you were worried, really worried, that whatever had happened back there was just too much. 

Hershel had pronounced the baby perfectly healthy. But she needed formula. 

Rick was on his knees, staring at the door to Cell Block C, and then suddenly he had burst to his feet, grabbed his ax, and disappeared into the cell block. None of you had stopped him, but you'd felt Carl flinch against you as the door slammed closed behind his father. For a moment, you'd hated your friend for being weak. 

Daryl said he'd go on a run, and he met your eyes in a question. Carl had still been pressed against you, and with Rick gone- 

You shook your head at Daryl. You needed to be here. 

Maggie had volunteered to go, and they were gone in a flash. Glenn had gone to check on Rick, and he had looked so disturbed when he came back alone to tell everyone the cell block was clear again, you hadn't had the heart to ask about Rick. Glenn took Hershel, Beth, and the baby inside, along with the inmates, Oscar and Axel. 

You thought Carl could use some time. 

So you'd cleaned his hands, and he hadn't looked at you while you did. Then you'd headed up onto the guard tower to keep watch, and he had followed you, like you'd hoped he would. There, with your backs against the cold stone of the tower walls, you stared out over the woods, and you waited. 

It was a trick you'd learned from Daryl. 

It worked. In fits and starts, in a ragged whisper, Carl started talking. He started with turning and seeing the walkers coming, with realizing he was the only defense his mother, Hershel, and Beth had nearby. He talked about taking his time with each shot, just like his dad had told him. He talked about the terror he felt as Hershel and Beth gotten separated from them; the relief when they were safe, that only grew when Maggie found them and got them into the cell block. 

He told you about the walkers in there, and how they'd had to take refuge in the boiler room. He told you about when he realized his mom was going to have the baby right there. He told you, his voice ashamed, how he'd been grossed out by that idea. 

You had chuckled a little, and he had too, and you thought maybe he'd be ok after all. 

He leaned into your side when you wrapped an arm around him, and kept talking. He told you about Maggie's panic and how he had just stood there, watching the door. He told you, tears in his voice, about his mom's goodbye to him. 

You had cried, then, and he cried again too, and you'd just sat together, grieving for a long time. 

And then he told you, his voice completely flat, about shooting his mom in the head so she wouldn't become a walker. 

You had cried again as he spoke, silent tears slipping down your cheeks that he didn't see, because he was looking resolutely ahead, gun in his hand. You had cried, but he didn't. 

 

It got dark while you sat with Carl. You could only imagine what it was like inside the cell block, with a hungry newborn and the two prisoners and all that grief. And that didn't even cover Rick. 

When you saw the headlights and heard the roar of the bike, you and Carl were down from the tower in a flash, sprinting full out to the gates. Daryl and Maggie pulled in, and Daryl nodded to you as you waved them on to the cell block. You and Carl closed up, securing the gates before you headed back. 

Maggie was emptying her bag of formula, diapers, and a baby blanket when you and Carl came in. You glanced around the cell block, hoping to see Rick with his newborn daughter, but your friend was nowhere to be found. 

Daryl took the baby from Beth, and you couldn't help but smile at how.... confident he looked holding her. You were impressed with Beth, too, as she measured and mixed the formula like she'd done it a thousand times. She caught your eye after passing the bottle to Daryl. 

"I used to babysit for all the families with little kids in our church," she said with a shrug. You gave her an encouraging smile, glad someone in the group knew babies. With Lori and Carol both gone, you and Maggie and Beth were last girls standing, and you sure as hell were not going to get stuck with baby duty simply because you had boobs. 

But the little thing was pretty damn cute, even you couldn't deny. 

Carl stood beside Daryl, watching his sister eat. 

"She got a name yet?" Daryl asked quietly, and Carl shrugged. 

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe Sofia. Or Andrea. Amy. Jacqui. Carol. Or.... Lori," the last one was a whisper. 

"Little Ass-kicker," Daryl said, looking down at her with a fond smile. You laughed, and he looked back up at you. "That's a good name, right?"

"Yeah," you said. "That's a great name. Girl's gonna be a fighter, like her brother." 

Carl flashed you a small, sad smile. 

 

You went back to the guard tower shortly after that. Someone needed to be on watch, and you couldn't stand being in the cell blocks right then. It was too strange, with Handlebar and the other guy in there now, and no Carol or T Dog or Lori. No more Shane, either, but that was a relief. 

You weren't surprised when you heard someone slowly climbing the tower to join you. Maggie wasn't who you'd been expecting, but she wasn't unwelcome. 

She sat down beside you without saying a word, leaning back against the wall of the tower as you were. 

"I couldn't save her," she whispered. You nodded without looking at her. 

"I know," you said. 

"Does Rick?" 

That got you to look at her. "Maggie. Of course he knows. He's known all winter what the risks were, and when Hershel went down?" You grabbed her hand. "He knows you did everything you could. He's just.... It's just been a lot, the past few days." Even to you, your excuses for Rick sounded weak. But you were certain of it, Rick would not be blaming Maggie for Lori's death. He'd blame himself, the walkers, maybe even the baby girl he hadn't bothered to even look at, but he wouldn't blame Maggie. It wasn't his way. 

Maggie was crying a little, but she gripped your hand tightly. "I just keep thinkin'; I should have practiced it like Carol did. And then I start thinking about Carol and T Dog and how we lost a quarter of our group over past few days. First Shane, though nobody's missin' him," she added hastily with a glance at you. "Then Lori, T Dog, and Carol. All at once, they're just gone. And now these strangers are here with us, and I just don't know. I don't know." 

You understood completely; hell, it's what you'd just been up here thinking yourself. Maggie needed reassurance, though, not your own fears. At some point, despite what you'd thought when you first sat around a fire with these people, you had become a leader. With Rick going crazy, it was you and Daryl in charge. That meant you needed to be strong for everyone else.

It didn't matter how scared you were that you were going to lose everyone in this prison like you'd lost everyone in your old group. 

"I know, Maggie," you said softly. "It's been... Christ, it's been a long few days. But it'll be ok. We'll be ok. Rick just needs some time, and then he'll be back with us. We can keep going with our plans for this place in the meantime. Daryl and I will start heading out on runs; getting us what we need to get ourselves sustainable. And don't worry about-" you hesitated, searching for the names of the prisoners. 'Handlebar' and 'the other one' just didn't feel appropriate when trying to reassure someone that they were safe to be trusted with your group. 

"Axel and Oscar," you finally continued, and Maggie interrupted you. 

"That is not what you were going to call them," she said with a grin. You grinned back. 

"Ok, no, Farmer's Daughter," you teased, and her grin turned into a laugh. "I just didn't think calling them 'Handlebars and the other one' would reassure you much!" 

"It wouldn't hurt," she said. "You givin' people nicknames is one of the few constants in our lives!" 

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. "Well, glad to be of service. Anyway, they'll be fine. Oscar killed the kid who let the walkers in. He could have killed Rick, and maybe even me before I got to him, but he didn't. He proved himself. And Axel helped Daryl and Glenn while they were trying to find you guys. They're good." 

"Then you're not hiding out here to get away from them?" 

"Ok, first of all," you protested, turning to give her a mock glare. "I'm not 'hiding' anywhere. I'm keepin' watch, which is an important part of our operational security." Maggie snorted and you continued. "Secondly, no, I'm not trying to stay away from them, per se. Not that I'm all that anxious to be hanging out down there with them- they're prisoners; we're the first women they've seen in a long time. I've had enough sexual harassment to last me a lifetime. And maybe you should make sure Beth always has a chaperone," you added with a frown. "I don't think they'll attack any of us, not really, but just for a few days. To be safe." 

Maggie nodded. "Daddy is with her. She and the baby are going to stay in Daddy's cell." 

"Good," you said quietly. Beth was a sweet girl, and you didn't think she'd be able to handle it if either of the prisoners were to try anything. "But anyway. No, I just- I needed some space. Some air. I don't handle grief well." 

"You lost a group before you joined Rick." It wasn't a question, but it there was a question in it, and you nodded. Maggie looked at you sideways, and you knew she was hoping for a distraction from everything that had happened. You sighed and shifted a little, then rose to pace along the walkway. 

"I did," you started slowly. "There were ten of them, plus me. I just ran into them on the streets in Atlanta. I'd just broken out of a store I was, um, borrowing from," you shrugged. "I needed supplies; it was there. It seemed like the thing to do. I didn't know how bad it was yet," you mused. "I was already on the run, but I was running from the cops." 

"The cops?" Maggie's surprise was evident and your smile was sarcastic. 

"I mean, I thought I was. I had just stabbed my boyfriend in the neck with kitchen shears." 

"What the hell, YN?" Maggie sounded troubled. You didn't blame her you, supposed. If you didn't know the circumstances, that statement might have worried you as well. 

"He was abusive. About three hours before, he'd been in the process of raping and trying to strangle me." You were staring out at the woods, leaning on the railing, when she drew in a sharp breath. "Yeah, I know," you said. "That seems to follow me around." 

She didn't say anything, so you went on. 

"Anyway, I'd liberated my bow and arrows and a few other things, and was making my way outside. I walked right into a herd of the dead, and was busy takin' them on when the group found me. They saved me and took me in, told me what had happened while I was runnin' and hidin' from people who weren't even looking for me, but they were in desperate need of leadership. Everyone always argued over what to do; where to go. I stepped in. Got us out of the city, right before they bombed it. I watched the helicopters go overhead and I knew." 

That had been a horrible night; the explosions, the smell of burning everything in the air, even from where you were a few miles out. Your group weeping and yelling and scared. 

"I tried to keep them alive," you whispered into the night. "I tried. But first it was walkers. Half of them were gone in a heartbeat. I wasn't as fast as I am now. As good as I am now. I couldn't get to them in time. We had to leave them. Two of them were still alive, trapped against a rock. But there was nothing I could do. The others and I-" You cut off for a moment, dashing the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand. 

"There were two girls, twin sisters, about seventeen years old. A college student, an art major of all things. He painted and sculpted. His parents had been rich, and he'd never struggled for anything a day in his life. Then there were the two from the construction crew, best friends who had managed to get themselves and their wives out together. One of the ones we had to leave behind was one of their wives. We weren't prepared. I was the only one who had any real knowledge." 

You turned to grin at her, tears still in your eyes. "I'm only twenty five, Maggie. I'd spent all of my summers in high school and college working as a summer camp counselor. I taught archery and survival skills. Learned everything I know from my dad growin' up. He worked for the forest service, and thought backpacking was an ideal week long vacation." 

Maggie's laugh was watery. "We've all been taking bets. Trying to guess, you know." 

"I know," you said. "Once I was out of college, I worked briefly with an archery league as an instructor, but by that point I had hooked up with the boyfriend. He hated my archery, hated when I spent any time alone in the woods or with people who weren't him. He was good at control and manipulation, and before I knew it, I had quit everything and was just taking care of him and his apartment. His apartment, because I gave up mine. I will never know how I got to that place," you said, shaking your head. 

"Anyway, I was the only one with any real idea what we were doing. And even I was rusty, God. I'd been a couple of years since I'd been in the woods or on the range! And while I could handle the dead, more or less, the living took me by surprise. I didn't expect them to come after us one night." You went back to looking out at the sky and the woods, turning your rifle around and around in your hands. 

"They were lookin' to rob us, and I think that was all. But I wouldn't give up my gun or my bow. I knew how badly we needed it. I got away, duckin' into the woods using the darkness, while they were busy searchin' our bags. I circled back around, hopin' I could scare them off, but then the art major jumped on one of the guys. Before I could stop them, they'd killed him and the construction workers. I killed one of them," you admitted. "I shot him. The girls, the sisters, they left with the other three. Said they couldn't be with me anymore if I was killin' people. I followed them for a few days, though, just to keep an eye on them, until the walkers overran their camp one night. Then I just... started walkin'. And I didn't stop. That's when Rick found me. Or more Daryl, I guess," you said with a shrug, remembering a hot road and a truck's horn stopping a caravan, and a dirty redneck who gave you water even though he seemed pissed off about it. 

"That's rough," Maggie said quietly, and you shrugged. 

"It's just what happened," you answered. "But losing people, like today- makes me a little on the crazy side. Makes me need open air. I never wanted to be a leader." 

Maggie laughed. "You'd never guess. Half the time, I think you're the only one holdin' us all together." 

"Don't count Rick out like that," you murmured, eyes on the movement you saw in the woods. Walkers approaching the fence, wandering up and bumping against it over and over. 

"I'm not," Maggie said seriously. "Rick makes hard decisions, decisions that keep us alive. But you've held everyone together. You take care of people, in ways Rick can't. I saw what you did with Carl." 

"He's a good kid," you said quietly. 

"He worships you." Maggie came to stand next to you, watching the fences as well. "But that's what I mean. Hell, you're here taking care of me, when you've barely been back on your feet for a day." 

"Woman don't know when to quit," Daryl grumped from behind you. "She should be asleep, not out here keepin' watch." 

"I'm fine, Dixon. Did plenty of sleepin' while I was working off the concrete swan dive," you said cheerfully. Funny how just the sound of his voice could raise your spirits.

Maggie just shook her head at you, and pushed off the railing. "Well, I'd better get back. See how Bethie's doin' with the baby." She touched your shoulder. "Thank you," she said. "And I'm sorry about your group before." 

You patted her hand, and she left, squeezing Daryl's hand as she passed him. He watched you for a long time, then just held his hand out to you without a word. You walked over and wrapped your arms around him with a sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your hair and rubbed your back. 

"I'll take the rest of the night, woman. Get some sleep," he ordered, but you shook your head against his shoulder. 

"I'm stayin'. Can't go back in there right now," you said. 

You fell asleep with your head in his lap a few hours later.


	31. Same Shit, Different Day

You were all eating a silent breakfast the next morning when Rick came in. Glenn and Hershel had given you updates on him as they checked on him, and frankly, you were concerned. 

He'd gone full-Shane-crazy on Glenn the night before, shoving him against the wall when Glenn tried to talk to him. No one had really appreciated when you used "full Shane" to describe it, but hey, a few of your sarcastic comments were destined to not be good.

He had cleaned up at some point, though, but his eyes were vacant and he wouldn't meet yours. You were sitting on the steps by Daryl, everyone else filling the table, and you reached your hand to grip his. Your friend was not ok, and all you wanted was to help him, but you couldn't. 

Rick said he was just there to check on Carl, and then he was going back to clear out the bodies. Glenn protested, said you all could handle it, but Rick shut him down. Glenn looked over to you in frustration and you just shook your head slightly. Let the man do what he was going to do. 

Rick strode over to you and Daryl. "Everyone have a gun and a knife?" 

"Yeah. We're runnin' low on ammo, though," Daryl answered shortly. Maybe you were the only one who could tell, but Daryl was pissed at Rick. He'd told you the night before that he felt like Rick had checked out, abandoned Carl and Little Ass-kicker. Privately, you agreed, but you were trying to give the man some grace. You knew how shock could be. This morning, however, you were starting to get pissed with Rick, too. 

For all he said he was there to check on Carl, he hadn't actually spoken directly to his son. And he hadn't even so much as looked in the baby's direction. 

"YN, Maggie, and me were planning on making a run this afternoon," Glenn piped up. "Found a phone book with some places we can hit, look for bullets and formula." 

"We cleared out the generator room," you added, and Rick turned those vacant eyes on you. "Axel's there, trying to fix it in case of emergency." 

"We're gonna sweep the lower levels as well," Daryl put in. 

You were both trying to get Rick to engage, waiting for your friend and leader to kick back into his own head. But Rick just walked away. "Good, good," he said on his way out the door. 

"Rick!" you yelled after him, but he was gone. "Damn it!" you shouted. 

Carl shoved back from the table and ran out of the room too. 

"I'll check on Rick," Hershel said quietly. 

"I'll get the kid. Oscar, you come with me and Carl, aight?" Daryl said, standing and helping you to your feet. "Woman, get goin'. Maggie, Glenn- take care of each other. Be careful. Be back before dark. Beth, Hershel, you guys stay here inside. Watch Lil Ass-Kicker." 

Daryl pulled you into the cell block, toward the cell he had apparently claimed for the two of you while you were unconscious. When you were inside, under the blanket someone had rigged over the door, he pushed you against the wall and kissed you, hard. 

"You be careful out there, woman," he said finally, as he pulled back. "I should be goin' with you." 

You smiled. "Can't follow me around everywhere, Dixon. We'd get sick of each other," you teased. 

He was looking at you, his eyes tight and face serious. "Naw," he said softly, and ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I could never get sick of you." 

He kissed you again, softer than before, then pulled you into his arms for a minute. You leaned into him, holding on just as tightly as he did. 

"When I get back tonight, we're gonna steal that guard tower back from Maggie and Glenn," you whispered to him, and he threw back his head and laughed your favorite laugh, the one you were starting to think only you could coax out of him. 

"Why wait?" he asked. 

You grinned and slapped his ass. "Bullets and formula first, remember? Gotta keep Lil Ass-kicker fed and protected. Besides, you need to go check on Carl." 

He sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he growled. "But we're gonna continue this tonight." 

"That a threat or a promise, Dixon?" you asked. 

"Both." 

You grabbed your bow and quiver, bitching once again about wishing you had good arrows like Daryl did, and he had just rolled his eyes at you. The two of you traded a few more urgent kisses as you moved around the cell, gathering what you needed for a run outside and to the lower levels of the prison. Finally there was no excuse to linger in the cell anymore, so you pressed up against him one last time, lips and tongues entwined, before stepping back with a sigh. 

"Better go, woman," he said quietly. 

"Yeah," you agreed, but you were still standing there, his fingers gripping yours loosely. Neither of you wanted to let go. "Be safe down there, ok? And take care of Carl." 

He nodded. "You better find him and say goodbye. He'll be upset if you don't." 

You nodded too, and started to step away. Daryl didn't move, and he didn't let go of your hand. You turned back to him, and he was studying you like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. You blushed under the strength of that look. 

"What?" you asked awkwardly, pushing your hair out of your eyes.

Damn, it was still all uneven jagged edges from where you'd hacked your braid off. You hadn't had a chance to do anything about it yet. You'd been planning on asking Carol or Lori to help clean up the cut a little, make it look a little more deliberate than desperate, but you'd never quite had the time. 

Well, vanity was never really one of your vices anyway. 

Daryl was still looking at you like that, and you were starting to feel ridiculous. He finally shook his head with a sigh. 

"You be careful too, woman," was all he said, and you couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. With the way he'd been looking at you, it was almost like he'd been wanting to say-

No. You pushed that aside, the thought and the disappointment. Just because you loved him didn't mean he had to love you back. Besides, what you were was more than enough. 

So you flashed him your confident grin and squeezed his hand. "I'll be fine. I'm a survivor, remember?" 

He grinned back, and this time when you turned to walk away, he let your fingers slip through his. 

 

You found Carl easily enough. He was up on the guard tower, leaning against the railing with the scope of your rifle up at his eye. He wasn't firing, just aiming one by one at the walkers gathered around the fences. 

"Hey, bud," you said cheerfully, leaning beside him. "You gonna help Daryl on the lower levels today?" 

He shrugged, but lowered the rifle. "I'd rather stay here. Keep watch. Or go with you and Maggie and Glenn." 

You shook your head. "Sorry, kiddo. We need you here. I need you here." 

"Fine," he said with no emotion, like he'd been expecting that all along. "Then I'll keep watch." 

You hesitated, treading carefully here. "Actually, I'd really appreciate it if you went with Daryl." 

"Why?" he snapped. "So he can keep an eye on me? I don't need a babysitter." 

"No," you agreed with a smile. "You don't. Daryl does." 

He glanced at you, and his jaw twitched before he firmed it back up. 

"Ha!" you pointed at him. "I'm funny and you know it!" 

He straightened up from the railing, finally looking all the way at you, and he was smiling. "Ok, fine. That was pretty funny." 

"Thanks for the standing ovation," you said dryly. "But I meant it. I'd appreciate it," you stressed. "If you went with him. Oscar and Axel seem like good people, but if you don't go, he'll be down there alone with Oscar. I'd feel better if he had someone down there to watch his back." 

Carl studied you for a moment. "You're pretty damn sneaky, you know that?" he said finally. 

"Carl! Language!" you said, feigning shock, and this time he laughed for real. 

"Fine! I'll go with Daryl," he agreed, and you reached out and flicked the brim of his hat. He rolled his eyes at you. 

"Come here, Grimes," you said, pulling him into a hug. He held on just a little too tightly, and you squeezed back. "You'll be ok. We'll be back before dark," you reassured him as you let go. 

He shrugged. "Just be careful." 

You followed him down the steps, complaining. "Why does everyone keep tellin' me that? Can't y'all see I can take care of myself?"

Carl snorted. "Maybe if you'd stop getting yourself into dangerous situations all the time, we'd stop trying to warn you not to." 

"Hmm, you may have a point, kid." 

Maggie and Glenn were waiting for you at the bottom of the stair. Maggie smiled at Carl. "Daryl's looking for you inside, Carl." 

He nodded. "Be careful, you guys. See you, YN," he called as he headed in. 

You watched him go for a moment, then turned back to Maggie and Glenn. "You ready?" 

Glenn nodded, his hand on Maggie's lower back. Maggie just grinned at you. 

"Let's roll," you said simply.


	32. You Blame the Shiny Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You were quiet as you drove. Glenn had taken the wheel by virtue of getting there before you, and you had graciously (ok, that's a lie, you had bitched about it the whole time. Daryl's truck and bike had spoiled you) taken the backseat to let Maggie sit with her man. 

You were only so mad, though, because they were pretty damn adorable. You didn't know if it was your talk the night before or getting some sleep, but Maggie seemed to have recovered after the trauma of Lori's C section. They were holding hands over the center console right now, and talking quietly between them about you didn't even know what; you had tuned out their words the way you often did whenever you had been talking with people for too long and you just needed some space to observe, and think. 

Glenn glanced over at Maggie and smiled at something she said, and the look in his eyes was such pure adoration, you found yourself grinning at them foolishly. You were still smiling when Glenn glanced in the rear view mirror and saw you. 

"What are you thinking about back there?" he asked you with a smile. 

"How damn cute you two are," you answered truthfully, and were very pleased to see him blush all the way to his ears. Maggie just laughed a little. 

"You can get pretty damn cute yourself sometimes with Daryl," she teased, turning to look at you. "I saw him drag you off into your cell before we left. You get lucky? Glenn and I have condoms if you need some." 

"Jesus, Maggie!" Glenn muttered, focusing on the road and rather determinedly not glancing in the mirror. You just laughed. 

"Naw, that's ok," you answered Maggie. "We've got our own. But no, I didn't get lucky this morning. We didn't have time for that." 

"Oh, there's always time for that," Glenn muttered, then slapped a hand over his own mouth like he couldn't believe he'd just said that. 

You and Maggie both cracked up, and you leaned forward in your seat and planted a kiss on Glenn's cheek. He blushed harder, shaking his head at you. 

"See? Damn adorable!" you said. 

"He really is," Maggie agreed, and Glenn gave her a mock scowl. 

"I'll just shut up now," he offered, and you patted his shoulder. 

"Sorry, Glenn," you offered, utterly unrepentant. 

"Ok, but really," Maggie said, and you turned back to her. She was turned around in the seat now, settled in for a long conversation, and you braced yourself for some serious girl talk. "Why didn't you go for it this morning? We would have waited. It's not like you guys haven't waited on us before." She dissolved into giggles as Glenn muttered something under his breath at her. 

You laughed with her, leaning back and looking out the window with a smile. "Oh, I don't know. Wasn't the right time. Maybe you and Glenn always have time for that now, but it's still fairly new with Daryl and I. We've only spent one night together like that, and I- well, there's some stuff in my past that makes it harder. Not that bein' with him like that is hard, because God, nothin' could be further from the truth. It's just hard to get out of your own head sometimes, or find the time or the privacy." You shrugged, surprised by how real your answer had been. Needing to lighten the mood, you gave Maggie a sly grin. "Especially when the other lovebirds think it's a grand idea to steal your guard tower!" 

All three of you laughed at that, Maggie teasing you about it being a comfortable spot and they'd be glad to loan it back sometimes. Glenn's blush eventually faded, and then he glanced back at you in the mirror again. 

"Can I ask you a question?" he said seriously, and you shrugged. 

"From the way this conversation's goin', there doesn't seem to be anything off-limits here," you drawled lazily. "Ask away." 

"Shane," he said slowly. "Why didn't Daryl kill him way earlier? I know he wanted to. He would have the first time you told the group Shane had attacked you, back before the barn. Sorry, babe," he added to Maggie, knowing that wasn't a great memory for her. She just rubbed his hand without a word. 

"Why not ask why I didn't kill him?" you asked seriously. "I'm the one he put his hands on. Shouldn't you be askin' why I didn't drop him where he stood?" 

Glenn shook his head. "I know you could have. I'm not trying to be sexist or anything. I assume you didn't kill him because you didn't want to kill him. You, more than any of us, are trying to rebuild civilization. While the rest of us are just trying to survive, you're trying to really live. All the talks about sustainability, a place we can not only defend, but grow? I've heard you. You don't want to be judge and jury, even if you're ok with being the executioner." 

You blinked a little. Sometimes you forgot how smart these people all were, how much others could see. Especially the quiet ones, like Carl or Glenn. You nodded at him, finally, to show that he was right. 

He met your eyes again and nodded back. "I'm asking about Daryl, because Daryl's not like that. Not that he doesn't have principles, or want to keep people safe and all that. He watches out for this group, and he cares so much for other people. I saw the way he was when Sofia went missing. It's just...." he trailed off, and you could see him picking his words carefully. 

"It doesn't matter how much I believe in right or wrong. It doesn't matter that I voted to repeal the death penalty. If someone had done that to Maggie, just once-" he broke off and his jaw clenched. "I don't know how Daryl could just let him live, knowing he'd attacked you twice, and seeing the way he kept looking at you. For months." 

You smiled at him a little from the backseat. Maggie caught your eye and rolled hers a little, but you could tell she was touched too. 

"I don't know why for sure," you started to answer Glenn. "It's not like we ever sat down and had a conversation about it or anything. He just followed my lead. He trusts me to make decisions for myself, so when I left it in Rick's hands he respected that and respected Rick's decision. I told him once that I would have killed Shane in self defense without hesitation if I thought I needed to. He knew that, and he knew I'd rather let the group decide. He knew if that changed, or if Shane did something that made it no longer apply, I would handle it or he would." You shrugged. 

"Well, he did handle it," Maggie said softly. "I saw Shane's body when Rick and Glenn brought him out. Daryl's a damn good shot with that crossbow." 

"Yeah, he arrived right on time," you said softly, shivering a little as you remembered your desperate struggle in the dark hallway. 

"Sorry," Glenn said into the silence after a moment. "Didn't mean to kill the mood or anything." 

You shook your head once to clear it and smiled back at the two of them. Maggie was watching you anxiously and relaxed at your smile. 

"It's ok," you told Glenn. "I don't mind talking about it. Everything's been happening so fast since then, it feels like a lifetime ago already. But I don't think it's even been a week yet!" 

"Yeah, this has been a crazy few days," Glenn agreed. "It's like time has been on fast forward since we got to the prison." 

"Well, luckily for us, we've got you along on this trip, Speed Racer," you said, and Maggie's laugh filled the air again as Glenn grinned. "You can speed us through the supply gathering and speed us back home. I've got a date in a guard tower with a very attractive man." 

The conversation turned back to lighter topics, and soon Maggie was turning back toward the front and you were easing back in your seat again. You closed your eyes, just for a minute, and then the car came to a stop. 

You slid out of the backseat and the three of you looked around. 

"You guys go for the baby stuff," you suggested. "I'll try for the ammo. I wouldn't even know where to begin on baby stuff." 

"You think I do?" Glenn said with a little chuckle. 

"Will you be all right on your own?" Maggie asked seriously, and you raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Bitch, please," you said, and Maggie had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly and attracting walkers. 

"Sorry, forgot I was talking to the ultimate badass!" she teased. You tipped her a salute with your bow and moved off. 

 

The place you'd found was a strip of small-town-esque stores all in a row. There was a grocery store and a pharmacy, where the other two went to look for formula and diapers, and there were several clothing and gift boutiques, the kind you would have regarded dubiously before their storefronts were covered in dirt, dust, and walker guts. And of course, there was your destination, one little pawnshop that took guns. 

You slid inside with no problem, bow half-drawn and at the ready, on the lookout for walkers. The front of the store was empty, full of broken display cases and items strewn carelessly over the floor. You frowned, wondering if this was going to be a complete bust, but you headed toward the back room anyway, glancing in the broken cases as you went. 

So far, no guns, but plenty of expensive and cheap looking jewelry, all tangled together in a heap. The engagement ring display gave you a pause. It was the small, simple solitaire that got you; couldn't have been more than an an eighth of a carat, really, in a no-frills gold band. 

Your mother's ring had been something similar, and she had cherished it every day, often telling you the story of how your father had scrimped and scraped to buy it for her. You'd never had a lot growing up, but the way your mom had talked about what you did have made you feel like you were living like a princess. Until you'd gotten old enough to know better, that is. 

You wondered how bad things would have had to get for your mother to pawn her ring, and you wondered how bad things had gotten for whoever had brought this one here. 

You wondered if your parents were even still alive.

You shook your head clear of the memories of the world before. This was a different world, and diamond rings- no matter what the size of the stone or how lovingly it was bought- had no place in this world. Besides, a ring like that on your finger would just get tangled up in some walker's insides, knowing your luck. 

You were still smiling a little at that mental image when you reached the door to the back end of the store. You were distracted, and that was your only excuse, as you shoved the door open and just walked right through. 

"Shit, shit, shit!" you yelped, as you came face to face with three walkers. 

The first one went immediately for the bite, and you backpedaled rapidly back through the doorway, trying to bring your bow up, but it was no use. You dropped your bow, grabbed the walker by the neck with one hand, and fumbled out your knife with the other. 

Your blow was clumsy, and your knife got tangled in the walker's skull and you couldn't get it out, but at least it had done its job. You dropped the walker reluctantly, dropping your knife with it, and reached into the nearest case for one of the bigger hunks of glass. 

"This is gonna suck," you muttered as you grabbed it and felt it slice into your hand immediately, but you slammed it through the next walker's eye and let go. 

You were bleeding, but you had gotten a bit of a breather, so you snatched your bow from the ground, pulled an arrow from your quiver, and then walker number three was on you. You just kind of mentally shrugged- apparently it was this kind of a day- and stabbed the arrow under this guys chin. 

The arrow broke before it reached the brain, but the walker kept leaning into you, trying to reach you with what was left of his teeth. The force of its own movement drove it further down the broken arrow shaft in your hand, and finally it was dead. 

"Ugh, ugh, ugh, get off," you were muttering as you knocked the corpse away from you. 

You bent over, set your foot against the skull of walker number one, and used all your momentum to yank your knife out of the front of its skull. 

"And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I don't go for the forehead hits!" You declared to the empty room and the walker corpses, taking a mock bow. 

So imagine your surprise when you heard a low whistle from behind you.


	33. It Must Be Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Well, that was a mighty fine two-step you did there, darlin'," a voice you didn't recognized drawled from behind you. You stiffened, shifting your knife to get a better grip. "Now, now," the voice continued. "I'm gonna want to see those hands of yours, and I'm gonna need you to turn around nice'n'slow." 

You heard the unmistakable sound of the hammer being drawn back on a gun and sighed. It must be a Tuesday. You'd always had shit for luck on Tuesdays. 

Your hands came up, bow in one and knife in the other, and you gripped the knife with just your thumb and your palm, blade pointed down and fingers raised. You turned slowly, just as the voice had asked. 

"Well, hello Dolly," the man with the gun said, raking his eyes over you and grinning in appreciation. "Guts and beauty? Where have you been all my life, honey?" 

"Oh, just makin' a point to stay out of your way," you snapped without thinking. You studied the man in front of you openly. He was older than you but probably younger than he looked, with that hard edge to his body and his eyes that spoke of a difficult life, even before the world ended. Most of your attention was on the gun in his hand and the way he held it; the set of his shoulders and flickers of his eyes. 

"Oh ho, got a mouth on ya, do ya?" He said with a grin. "That's ok, darlin'. I like my women with a little fight." 

"Well then you're gonna just love me," you said, swinging your knife up to a better grip and shifting onto the balls of your feet. 

"Now, now, I'd think about that if I were you," the man said, moving the gun's aim just a touch to point at your kneecap. "It'll be mighty hard to dance with them biters with only one good knee, don't'cha think?" His voice had hardened to seriousness at the end, and his finger was on the trigger. 

You gritted your teeth and brought your hands back up. 

"There's a good girl," he said with another smile. "Now, why don't you just go on a drop that lil pig sticker for me, baby?" 

You complied, letting your knife clatter into the dirt. 

"Alrighty then, honey. Come on over here to me, nice and slow like." You moved forward, and when you were about even with him, he turned with your movement, keeping the gun trained on you. 

"Good job, sugar. Now why don't you go on and head through that door right there first, ok? After all, it's only chivalrous for a man to let a beautiful lady go ahead of him!" 

Damn, that one was almost funny. You might have laughed if you hadn't been so pissed. 

You walked through the doorway first, but before you could even consider running or trying to fight, the man was right up on your back, his arm wrapped around you, and you came to several realizations all at once. 

One, there was something metal and very, very sharp at your throat. 

Two, that metal sharp thing was not being held by a hand. Instead, it was strapped to metal case that covered the man's forearm all the way to where a hand should have been. Interesting. And something tickled at the back of your mind, but you didn't have time to figure out what, since realization number three was rather more urgent. 

Three, your own hand was still bleeding pretty heavily. Figuring if the guy hadn't killed you yet, there was a good chance he wanted you alive, you decided to try to do something about number three. 

As the man took your bow from your hand and tossed it to the ground beside you, you spoke. 

"My hand's bleeding. I'm going to rip off part of my shirt and use it as a bandage." It wasn't a question, because you'd long since discovered that people often responded to statements with agreement, and it was much easier to inform someone of your plans than to give them a chance to say no. The man hesitated, but then you felt him nod. 

"Be real careful there, girlie. I may be down a hand, but you try anything and I'll open your neck faster'n you can say help." 

You simply reached your now-empty bow hand to the edge of the flannel shirt and grabbed the seem. One good tug was all it took to split the worn fabric, and then you tugged sideways and had a sizable piece to wrap around your hand. You clenched you fist over the makeshift bandage to add pressure and prayed you would clot quickly. 

"All patched up? Goody. Now let's go collect your two friends," the man jabbed you in the side with the gun. "Walk." 

You walked. 

 

You had hoped Maggie and Glenn wouldn't be as easy to catch as you, but they had come out of the pharmacy, smiling and talking, and reached the truck when you and your captor rounded another vehicle. 

"I like the quiet," Maggie was saying. "Back there, back home, you can always hear them outside the fence, no matter where you are." 

"And where is it y'all good people callin' home?" the man called from behind you, and Maggie and Glenn whirled to look. Maggie's eyes went wide at the sight of you in front of him. They both pulled their guns up, but Glenn's face looked stunned. 

"Merle?" he asked quietly. You drew in a sharp breath. 

Wasn't that Daryl's brother's name? 

Oh shit, Daryl's brother who had chopped off his own hand- and maybe replaced it with the blade currently digging in a little more than was comfortable to your throat. 

"Wow!" the man- Merle- scoffed. 

"You made it," Glenn said flatly. Maggie was looking wildly back and forth from Daryl's asshole brother to Glenn, not knowing whether or not to try to shoot. You caught her eye and tried to communicate that you and your neck would really really rather she not do that, please. 

"Can you tell me," Merle said. "Is my brother alive?" 

Oh for God's sakes. Where the hell had he been all winter if he was worried about Daryl? 

Oh shit, oh shit, Glenn, do not tell him about you and Daryl, please God. It was the only leverage you had right now. 

"Yeah," Glenn said shortly. 

"You take me to him and I'll call it even on everything that happened up there in Atlanta." 

You saw Glenn think about it for a minute, and he glanced once at the knife where Merle's hand used to be. He might have been feeling a little guilty, even, and Merle picked up on it right away. 

Damn it. 

"You like that? Yeah," he drawled. "Well, I found myself a medical supply warehouse. Fixed it up myself." 

Lie. You heard the lie in his voice, but he was continuing. 

"Pretty cool, huh?" 

"We'll tell Daryl you're here and he'll come out here to meet you," Glenn offered. "But you've got to let YN go." 

"Hold on now, just hold up! The fact that we found each other is a miracle! You can trust me," Merle said. 

"You're holding a knife to our friend's throat!" Maggie snapped. 

"Yeah," Merle said seriously. He had been easing you closer and you hadn't really had any option but to go. "And now I'm holding a gun to your head." 

He pulled his gun out from behind you and had it trained on Maggie in a blink. He shot once, just behind her head, and shattered the windshield. Glenn tried to run, but Merle had the gun back on Maggie in a flash. 

"I'd freeze right there and put that peashooter down, my friend, unless you'd like to lose both these lovely ladies," Merle snarled, all pretense of friendliness gone now. 

"Let go of her!" Glenn yelled. 

"Nope," Merle said. "Put that gun in the back of the car, right now. Put it in the car, son." You would have sighed if you could have when Glenn complied and Maggie followed his lead. They both had their hands up, and Merle continued. "There you go. Now we're gonna go for a little drive." 

"We're not going back to our camp," Glenn said flatly. 

"No," Merle said slowly. "We're goin' somewhere else. Get in the car, Glenn! You're drivin'!" he yelled suddenly. "Move!" 

Glenn nodded and slid into the driver's seat. Maggie got in the front, and Merle shoved you into the backseat and climbed in after you, gun trained on Maggie's head. 

Well, fuck.


	34. Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *graphic rape/non con warning!!!*   
> This is rough; I'm sorry; please heed the warning!
> 
> cannon divergence

Halfway there, Merle knocked you out. You weren't even sure how he'd pulled it off, but one minute you were driving in tense silence, broken only by him whistling a tune, and the next minute, you were waking up crumpled on the floor in a weird metal and wood room. 

You sat up with a groan. 

'YN?" Maggie said, her voice filled with fear. She was at your side in a moment, hand under your elbow as you pulled yourself to a sitting position. "You ok?" she asked. 

You nodded. You were taking a quick stock of your body. Hand still cut, but not bleeding through the makeshift bandage. Throat still covered in healing bruises, but uncut. 

Not having your throat slit open automatically improved your opinion of the day. 

Your head was screaming, but you'd basically had a headache since you'd met Rick and Daryl on the side of the road, so what's new? 

"What the hell happened?" you asked Maggie, finally looking around the room a little. 

"I was going to ask you that," she said. 

You pushed to your feet to pace around. There was a table, two chairs, and a light. That was it. Well, not a lot to work with there. 

"He got the jump on me. I was distracted by walkers." Well, and jewelry, but that was just too embarrassing to remember. 

"He knocked you out in the car. It was crazy. He was whistlin' one minute, then he just slammed his gun into the side of your head and you were out. Glenn started screaming, I started screaming, and he put his damn sword thing to Glenn's neck and told him to keep driving, or he'd put a bullet in your brain next. Said he liked you a lot, but you had a smart mouth and he didn't need the distraction when we pulled up to Woodbury." Maggie sounded terrified, and you couldn't blame her.

"Woodbury?" you asked, eyes searching the walls and the doors, hoping for any weaknesses. You couldn't find any. 

"It's a town. Just a regular town, but it's got a big wall built around it. He had us drive through the gate, then they put bags over mine and Glenn's heads and walked us a ways. Then they shoved me in here, dumped you down, and left. I haven't seen Glenn." 

You walked back to her and sat down. She reached for your hand and you let her hold it tightly. "It's gonna be ok, Maggie," you said confidently. 

"How can you say that?" she asked, her voice angry. 

You shrugged. 

"Daryl," you said simply. 

 

It could have been minutes later, it could have been hours. You honestly weren't sure. But suddenly you started hearing the unmistakable sounds of someone being beaten from the room beside you. 

"You don't scare easy, do you?" You heard Merle ask, and then you just heard blow after blow from the room next door. 

"I wanna know where my brother is! I wanna know where the sheriff is! Where you camp is! I wanna know now!" 

Maggie was shaking and crying and you pulled her into your arms. She flinched with every shout, every blow, and you didn't blame her. Your stomach was churning at what was happening to Glenn in the room next door, and still he didn't speak. You never heard his voice, just Merle's angry screaming and the sickening sounds of fists on flesh. 

"Shh, shh," you whispered to Maggie, over and over. "It'll be over soon. It'll be over soon." 

 

It ended eventually, but the silence wasn't much better. Especially when it was broken by Merle's voice and the snarling growls of a walker. 

You were glad Maggie had fallen asleep with her head on your lap, and you covered her ear with your shaking hand to try to keep her from waking up. You could hear the walker, and you could hear Glenn struggling. 

You'd never been so scared in your life. 

Maggie woke up eventually, and threw up in the corner as Glenn screamed out, once, in a horrifying primal yell. 

Then the silence dropped back down. 

 

When the door to your cell opened, you and Maggie snapped to your feet. It wasn't Merle, it was someone else. He was tall, thin, and carried himself like a man used to being in charge. He was clean and so were his clothes, and honestly, you were more scared of him than of anyone you'd met since the world ended. 

He walked in slowly, and pulled out one of the chairs from the table. "May I?" he asked, and you snorted. 

"Thank you," he said, like he hadn't heard you. He sat, and gestured to the other chair. You saw Maggie glance at you from the corner of your eye, and you gestured for her to stay put. The man's eyes flicked from you to her and back, and he smiled with satisfaction. 

This bastard was more dangerous by far than Merle. 

You had no idea what game he was playing, but you moved forward and sat in the chair opposite him. You'd do anything to keep Maggie and Glenn alive, even pretend this was all civilized. 

"We'll take you two back to your people, explain this was all just a misunderstanding," he began with a gesture. You stared at him without saying a word, and Maggie stayed silent behind you. 

"You tell us where they are and we'll drive you there," he offered after a pause. 

"I want to talk to Glenn," you said. 

He made a face that was probably supposed to be apologetic. "I can't allow that. Your people are dangerous. Handcuffed my man to a roof, forced him to amputate his own hand." 

"I don't know anything about that," you answered, completely honestly, because that was a wildly different story than the one you'd once heard from Rick himself. 

"You just tell us where they are and we'll bring them here," the man offered. He needed a nickname, you thought absently. But there was nothing. He gave nothing away, nothing to distinguish him from anyone else, and maybe that's why you were so instantly afraid of him. He screamed normal, in a way that let you know he was anything but. 

You said nothing, just looked away from him, bored. 

"No?" He said softly. "Fine. Let's try something else. Stand up, please," he said, tone still reasonable. 

You knew immediately that you did not, in fact, wish to stand up. There were a thousand alarms going off in your head, and you knew, you just knew, this was going to get very ugly, very quickly. 

He leaned forward, and repeated, very softly. "Stand up, please." 

Shit. Shit shit shit. He had that dead look in his eyes that the real threats, the real killers get. You shoved the chair back and stood. He smiled a tiny smile. 

"Take off your shirt." 

Maggie gasped, and his eyes flicked to her again. "You too, sweetheart," he said in that same tone. 

"No," you snapped. 

He leaned back in his chair again. "Take off your shirts, or I'll bring Glenn's hand in here." 

Son of a bitch. He really would. 

You wordlessly pulled off your flannel and then your tank, standing there with just the sports bra you'd been wearing for months. You could hear Maggie's breathing picking up, hear her start to hyperventilate as she took off her tank as well. 

He was smiling a little now, letting his eyes roam over both of you. He spread his hands. "Go on," he said, like it was perfectly obvious. 

You hesitated for a moment, and he started to get out of his chair. You heard Maggie moving behind you, then the sound of her bra hitting the floor. You met his gaze, and pulled your sports bra over your head. You crossed your arms over your chest rapidly, trying to keep as much control as you could. 

You couldn't believe how calm you were. Somewhere deep inside, you knew you should have been terrified. But you weren't. 

It was like there had just been one thing after another too many, and you were just done. You were done with men thinking they could control and terrorize you by threatening your body. You were done with people who thought the end of the world was license to do whatever the hell they wanted. You were done with people or walkers or acts of fucking God threatening your friends, and most of all, you were done with this asshole. 

So you still weren't scared when he stood up, slowly, and unbuckled the gun belt on his hips, setting it carefully on the chair he'd just vacated. You still weren't scared as you backed up a step so you could see Maggie as well as he walked slowly around the table and over to her. You weren't scared when he pulled the chair from behind you and pushed it away with a screech and a crash. 

But when he stood behind Maggie, whose entire body was shaking and heaving as she tried to control her terror and put on a brave face, and he ran his fingers through her hair, you felt a flash of something sharp and hot and primal. You got pissed off. 

"Hey!" you snapped, dropping your arms and turning to him. You didn't even fucking care anymore. "Get your damn hands off her," you snarled at him. 

He looked at you for a long moment, then deliberately dropped his eyes to your exposed breasts. You felt a little hitch in your breathing, but Maggie was staring at you and her eyes were wide and glassy, her pupils blown so there was basically no iris left, and she was barely breathing, little rapid shallow breaths. She was petrified, and you- 

Well, you weren't. You were too fucking pissed. 

So when he ran his hand down Maggie's back as he stalked toward you, you still weren't afraid. And then he spun you around and slammed you forward, face down onto the table, with his hand on the back of your head. Your head hit on the same side where you'd bit the deck after Shane, and you saw nothing but blurry black for a long moment, a moment during which his hands slid down your bare back. 

When your vision cleared, you could see Maggie, standing where he'd left her, arms around herself and shaking still with fear. 

"So, are you gonna talk?" he asked quietly, and you just laughed. 

Well, that was a mistake, because it pissed him off good. He snarled at you, the mask of polished civility slipping, and put one hand on the center of your back, holding you down. You could hear him unzip his pants with the other, and Maggie gave a strangled little cry and her eyes flashed back to you. 

"You can do whatever you're gonna do," you said to him conversationally, holding Maggie's gaze, trying to tell her that no matter what, it was ok. You've been through worse. "And then you can go to hell." 

He chuckled a little, and then he reached around you, undoing your jeans as you stayed completely still. You kept your gaze on Maggie as he yanked your pants down, and then he asked again. 

"I said, are you gonna talk?" 

You didn't speak. 

Maggie closed her eyes, shaking her head back and forth as tears rolled down her cheeks, and you spoke to her instead of him. "Maggie, it's fine. Maggie, look at me. It doesn't matter," you told her, and that just pissed him off even more. 

He held your hips tightly, shoving you forward into the table with every thrust, and you just kept your eyes on Maggie. You'd have bruises later, and probably worse, but it didn't matter. It just didn't matter. 

It was fine, because it was you, not Maggie, pinned to that table, and you'd survived worse at the hands of someone who claimed to love you. You were fine; you could survive. As long as he left Maggie alone. 

You could tell the moment he realized he'd lost, because he just stopped, right there, pulling away from you and jerking his pants back into place. Maggie was shaking like a leaf in the wind, but he didn't even look her way. 

He buckled his gun belt back around his hips, and you pushed yourself back off the table. You kept eye contact with him as you pulled up your jeans, not bothering to zip or button them, and you didn't even try to cover your breasts again, either. 

What was the point, after all that? 

You heard Merle back in Glenn's room and felt instant relief. If he was talking in there, Glenn was still alive. 

He banged once on your cell door and it opened, and another man appeared. The other guy's gaze flicked over you and Maggie and his eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything as the first guy, the rapist, grabbed you by the arm and gestured the other guy to Maggie. They marched you out of your room and into Glenn's. 

Glenn's expression when he saw you and Maggie broke your heart. 

He was holding what looked like a broken chair leg, and his face was bruised and bloody. The minute he saw you, both of you only half-dressed, his face contorted and he started forward, raising the his makeshift weapon. 

The Henchman immediately aimed his gun at Maggie's head. 

"Drop it," the man holding you snarled. Glenn looked devastated as he met your eyes and the wood clattered to the ground. 

"We're through with games," the man continued. "Now one of you is gonna give up your camp." 

He pulled his own gun and aimed it at your head, and cocked it. Glenn held your eyes steadily and you shook your head. The man sighed and walked forward to Glenn, gun pointed at him, and Glenn spread his arms in a 'come at me' gesture. 

"The prison," Maggie's voice was barely audible. 

"The one near Nunez?" Merle asked. You finally looked at Daryl's brother, who had been silent all this time. Rage was still keeping you going, and you couldn't believe that the two of them shared any blood. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of what might have been sorrow or guilt. 

"That place is overrun," the leader said. 

"We took it," Maggie replied. 

"How many are you?" 

You didn't look away from Merle, but at some point you'd crossed your arms over your breasts again. Merle was studying you closely, eyes going from you to Maggie to the man in charge, and you saw the moment he noticed that your jeans were unbuttoned. He turned to study his boss again, and you saw his posture change as he did. Maybe he'd realized the man's shirt was untucked now, and his gun belt buckled over it, whereas when he'd walked into your cell, he'd been all tucked in and neat as a pin. 

Maggie was gulping. "Ten," she said. "We have ten now." 

"Ten people cleared that whole prison of biters?" he asked, and looked at Merle before heading back toward the door. He paused at Maggie on the way out, stroking her cheek as he watched Glenn's face. He pulled Maggie to him, hugging her as she struggled, but you were watching Merle. 

Merle's jaw twitched, and he looked away from what was going on, down to his feet before glancing back at you. 

Then the man was gone and Henchman with him, and Merle was walking toward the door to. Before he left, he pulled off the button up shirt he had on and held it out to you, looking at the ground. 

You reached out and took it. "When Daryl finds you, and he will," you said to him very quietly as you pushed your arms through the shirt's sleeves, "He's gonna kill you." 

Merle's eyes snapped to you and he crowded into your space. "Oh really? Why's that, little lady?" he asked with a sneer, but you had seen the doubt in his eyes. You met him toe to toe, and you smiled. 

"Because you just brought his girlfriend here to get raped by your boss," you said, and then you turned your back on him. After a moment, you heard the door slam. 

You started to shake the minute you were alone, and even the sight of Glenn struggling out of his own shirt and pulling it over Maggie's head couldn't make you stop.


	35. Breakout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> discussion of rape/non-con

You were sitting against another wall, you and Maggie on either side of Glenn. Your eyes were closed and you were concentrating on breathing, forcing back the panic that had finally set in when the three of you were left alone. 

You could hear Glenn talking to Maggie in a low voice, asking her urgently what had happened. "Maggie, did he-?" 

"No," she snapped, looking at him. "No, he barely touched me.... Because of YN," she trailed off, and you blocked her voice out as she told Glenn what had happened. 

"YN?" Glenn said quietly. You felt his hand touch your shoulder. 

"Please don't touch me right now," you ground out through your clenched jaw. His hand moved instantly, and you breathed a little deeper. "I'm fine, Glenn, really," you told him after a moment, but even you knew that wasn't true. 

Everything hurt. You stomach, your back, your face. You ached between your legs in a way you hadn't since you'd stabbed your abusive ex in the neck. You could feel the blood seeping into your jeans and you had the half-formed semi-hysterical thought that you really wished you could get treated for STDs. 

Why weren't you in shock? You were struggling with the panic some, sure, but your brain was completely clear. 

Maybe it was because you still weren't safe, or maybe it was because you'd finally snapped completely back in that room and become a psychopath. 

You were pretty sure questioning if you were a psychopath made you not one. Or some such shit. 

Maybe you were a little in shock after all. 

Suddenly, Glenn surged to his feet. You lifted your face from your knees and watched as he went over to the walker Merle had tried to kill him with. When he pulled off the thing's arm and started digging around, yanking out bones, you felt yourself smile. 

"Oh, you are something on the next level Glenn Rhee." He met your gaze when you used his full name, and your smile was a predator's, hard and sharp. His eyes answered your smile, and you took the piece of bone he offered you. 

When the doors to your cell opened, you were ready. Merle and a henchman came in, and you jumped from either side of the doorway, knocking them down and scrambling for their guns. 

Unfortunately, Merle was faster than you gave him credit for, and he was on his feet in an instant, throwing Glenn to the ground and lowering his sword-arm to his throat. 

You came up with his gun, holding it to his head, but two more men came in from behind you, and Merle snatched his gun from your hands. 

"Get up!" he screamed at Glenn, and then you were all three on your knees. Merle was pacing around you and talking (did he ever shut up? No wonder Daryl was so quiet. He'd never had a chance to get a word in edgewise with this tool). 

Henchman number one brought in bags and pulled them over your heads. "I love you," you heard Maggie say to Glenn. Then you were being pulled to your feet and marched forward. 

And then the world dissolved into chaos. 

 

An explosion went off. Your hands were bound and your face was covered, and you could hear people screaming all around you. 

"Maggie! Glenn!" you cried, hoping to keep track of them in all the chaos, but how could you? 

Then suddenly, hands were grabbing your arms and pulling you away, and then someone yanked the bag off your face and- 

It was Rick. He smiled as he met your eyes, but there was no time for talking, because you were being pulled away, out of the building and into the night. You glanced around as you ran, and there were Maggie and Glenn looking just as shocked as you, and there was Oscar the inmate, and some chick with a sword (ho boy did you have some questions there), and there-

There was Daryl. 

He had Maggie by the elbow, helping her along, but there was something in his expression. It was like all the light in him had died and he was just blank, and your heart froze at the sight. 

God, he was going to yell at you this time, for sure. 

He must have been so mad when you didn't come back. 

"Inside, quick," Rick hissed, and then you were all ducking into a darkened building, and you realized you'd been moving through a town, just like Maggie had said. You sagged against Rick for a minute, and he pulled a knife and made quick work of your tied hands. 

"Give me a weapon, Rick," you said, and your voice sounded odd to your ears. It must have to Rick, too, because he looked you over and his eyes went hard as he took in the shirt that obviously wasn't yours, and then Daryl was slapping your gun into your outstretched palm. 

"Ain't no way out back there," Daryl said to Rick, and Rick glanced at Maggie and Glenn and back to you. 

"How bad are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'll be all right," Glenn said, and you nodded as well. 

"Where's the Samurai?" you asked, and Rick was whirling around again. 

"She was right behind us!" he snapped. 

"Want me to go look for her?" Daryl offered, but Rick refused. 

"We gotta get them out of here," Rick said, and you couldn't have agreed more. "She's on her own." 

"Daryl," Glenn said, and you would have shut him up if you were closer. "This was Merle." 

"What? My- my brother's this governor?" Daryl asked, stunned. 

"No, that's somebody else," you said, shooting Glenn a shut-the-fuck-up look. "Your brother's his lieutenant or something." 

"Does he know I'm still with you? Does he know who-" Daryl's eyes shot to you and you sighed. 

"Do we have time for this right now?" you hissed, and Rick jumped in. 

"No we do not. We need to move," Rick said. 

"If my brother's here, I need to find him," Daryl insisted. 

"Rick, I'm sorry, we told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out," Glenn said. 

"Don't," Rick said. "No need to apologize." He patted Glenn's arm. "Can you walk? We've got a car a few miles out." 

Maggie hauled Glenn to his feet. Daryl was pacing, looking around at everyone wildly. "If my bother's around, I need to see him!" 

"Not now. We're in hostile territory," Rick snapped. 

"But he's my brother!" 

"Look what he did! Look, we gotta- we gotta get out of here now. YN, she needs you to help get her out of here now," Rick insisted. 

"YN can take care of herself," you put in mildly. "But could we maybe get started?" 

Daryl's eyes focused on you and the panicked looked faded from them. You knew that feeling, knew how someone could get you so twisted around that you didn't know what was important or what mattered to you anymore except them. But he drew in a breath, and really looked at you for the first time, and then your Daryl was back in his eyes.  
"Ok, Rick, let's go," he said. 

Then you were pushing out of the building, Rick was throwing a flash-bang, and smoke and bullets filled the air. 

You almost made it, too. 

You'd made it to the wall, and everyone was climbing up it, but then Oscar got hit. Daryl was laying down cover, but then he had to reload, and it was just you and Rick left to climb up on that damn bus and over the wall, but there was no way in hell you were leaving him. 

"Go!" you screamed to Rick, and you started back toward Daryl, firing into the smoke as you went. 

And then you got grabbed.


	36. We Ain't Fucking Dying Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

When they pulled the bag off your head this time (and wasn't that an upsetting sentence?), you were just on the edge of some kind of arena, complete with bad guys in a circle, Merle Dixon, and the Governor. 

Oh, but someone had taken a chunk out of him! He had a patch of gauze on one eye, and he looked pissed. 

Honestly, you owed Rick an apology. Rick hadn't gone full Shane, this dude had. 

You finally looked around some more, and you realized Daryl was beside you, watching his brother. 

"Hey, Dixon," you said cheerfully, and he looked over at you. There was an animal in his eyes, and you'd never been more confident in what you were about to say. 

"So, looks like this is as good a time as any," you continued with a shrug. "About to die and all. Just thought I'd tell you, I love you." 

His eyes widened, and then the two of you were being shoved forward into the arena, on either side of Merle, and the Governor was yelling about Merle being a traitor and letting in his brother. Apparently, you and the rest of Rick's people were now terrorists. Nice. You glanced around as the crowd started screaming "kill them! Kill them!"

Son of a bitch, that was Apocalypse Barbie! 

Well, now you were definitely gonna die. 

Daryl had a cut on one cheek and his shirt was all ripped up, and you honestly didn't even want to know what you looked like. But the Governor's eyes flicked over Merle's shirt that you were wearing, and you knew he'd never believe the older Dixon hadn't been helping you. Something about that tickled at the edge of your mind, a whispered question about earlier events of the day, but you were too busy to worry about it right now.

Then the Governor pointed to Merle, while henchmen held Andrea back and someone cut the ropes holding your and Daryl's hands. 

Oh shit, this was going to get real. 

"I asked you where your loyalties lie. You said here," the Governor was in full speech mode. "Well, prove it. Prove it to us all. Brother against brother. Winner goes free." 

There was blood seeping out from under the gauze on his eye. 

Andrea was pleading with the Governor not to do this, and Daryl met your eyes once, briefly. You'd never seen him look scared, but he looked from you to his brother to the crowd around, and you saw it in his eyes for a moment. He didn't think you were making it out of here. 

You should have been terrified; if Daryl didn't think you were getting out, this should be the end, right? But you weren't. If he didn't have faith, you would. 

Besides, Rick was still out there, and you were really hoping for a chance to see who could out-crazy who: Rick or this asshole. Your money was on Rick.

Then Merle threw up his hands amid shouts of "Yeah, Merle!" from the crowd. You were starting to get the feeling this was a regular thing around here, because Merle looked totally calm and not at all like he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on, like you were. 

"Y'all know me!" He called. "I'm gonna do whatever I got to do, to prove...." 

And he turned and slammed his fist into Daryl's stomach. Daryl went down, coughing, and Merle was on him in an instant, kicking at him while still shouting about loyalty. 

Fuck that noise. 

You hadn't been doing so well against live opponents, but you were hoping you had learned a few things from all your recent attempts. Besides, you didn't care. That was your Daryl, and the two of you sure as hell weren't dying here tonight. 

Someone should put that on your tombstone. 

You sprang for Merle's back, jumping up and clinging to him like a damn monkey. You set one hand on his forehead, pulling his head back as much as you could, and locked the other arm around his neck. There were only so many things you could do against an opponent who was not only bigger than you, but also had the home territory advantage, and all you were really looking to do was give Daryl a chance to get to his feet. 

You did that much, at least, before Merle was grabbing your arm and pulling you over his own head to slam you onto the ground. He lifted a foot, probably to drive home a kick, but then Daryl appeared out of nowhere in a flying tackle that sent both Dixons down in a tangle of body parts.

You scrambled back up as Daryl delivered a couple of rapid, solid blows to Merle's face, but Merle was laughing as he bucked Daryl off of him. 

You were vaguely aware of the crowd cheering and screaming, of the armed people pressing in all around you, but you were in full survival mode now, and nothing else mattered but taking down Merle. 

Unfortunately, physics and luck still weren't exactly on your side. 

You came in again, as Daryl hit the ground flat on his back and Merle jumped back up to his feet, and you got in one good jab to Merle's side before Merle's leg lashed out, slamming square on your rib cage, and you were on the ground beside Daryl. 

Oh fuck, you were fairly certain at least one of those ribs was broken. 

Merle was back on Daryl, but then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the fight stopped. One second Merle was punching Daryl in the abdomen, the next he was grabbing your hand and hauling you to your feet. 

"Just follow my lead, little brother," he was saying, "We're getting out of this, right now." 

And then the three of you were back to back, on the same damn team, except you were weaponless and now you were surrounded by walkers on lead poles, all undead grasping arms and rotting teeth snapping at you. 

Because of course you were. What would this night have been without a little zombie action? 

After some hesitation, the walker handlers kept bringing them closer, and then the brothers Dixon began literally just punching walkers in the face. 

No, really, Daryl just hauled back and punched a walker in the face, with his bare fist. And Merle followed suit, but at least he was using his metal-covered arm, not just bare, very vulnerable, flesh. 

You thought about joining them, really you did, but whoever was holding the one closest to you seemed to hesitate against feeding an unarmed woman to a walker. 

Ah, femininity has some uses, it seems. Now, if you could just find something sharp and pointy... 

Then the walker in front of you took a bullet to the head. A flash bang went off right beside you, and everyone was screaming, and you were sandwiched between Daryl and Merle as you all crouched low and Merle started leading the way toward the exit. 

You had one hand on Merle's back, and Daryl had one hand on your arm when the spotlights went out. Now the three of you were moving faster, Merle calling for you to stay close, and you meant to, you really did, but out of nowhere, you saw the guy coming. 

He had Daryl's crossbow, and damn it, you guys needed that. So you broke away from the two of them, Daryl screaming your name as you slipped from his touch, and you moved soundlessly through the smoke to come at the guy from the side. You grabbed the crossbow, jerked it forward in the guys hands and then slammed it back into the bridge of his nose in one smooth motion. He dropped like a stone. 

Then Merle and Daryl were at your side, and you were grinning like a maniac, handing the crossbow over to Daryl, who scowled at you. They formed up around you again, and you were moving some more, and Daryl dropped a walker before a familiar face darted forward from the smoke and called your name. 

The three of you took off after Rick, and Maggie was running in front of you, and everything was a blur, but somehow, somehow, impossibly- 

You made it out. 

All five of you made it out of Woodbury's walls, and then you were running and hiding in the woods, and then you were at the truck Rick had stashed, and Glenn and the Samurai were there, and holy shit you had not been that excited to see a vehicle in a long time. 

You were tired, damn it. This had been a long fucking day.

Glenn was yelling about Merle being there, and Daryl was yelling back, but Rick was all up between them, yelling as well about how you did not have time for this. You couldn't have agreed more. 

Somehow, Rick got Glenn to calm down. Then Rick, Glenn, and Maggie piled into the cab of the truck, and Daryl- who you suddenly realized was pretty much holding you upright, whoops- was picking you up and setting you in the bed of the truck and climbing in after you. He pulled you into his arms as soon as the truck was in motion, so you were sitting between his legs, face against his chest, and he had one arm curled protectively over you. 

He said something you didn't quite catch as your eyes closed, and the last thing you saw was Merle fucking Dixon grinning at you from across the truck bed. 

Then you were out.


	37. The Samurai, the Asshole, and You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of recent rape/non con  
> discussion of injuries from rape/non con  
> discussion of past abuse
> 
> cannon divergence

You woke up when the truck stopped moving, but you kept your eyes closed and your breathing even. You were still leaning against Daryl, and he was running his fingers gently over your arm, in the absent-minded way he did when he was deep in thought and you were within reach. 

You could feel the sunlight on your eyes, so you'd been driving awhile. Rick wouldn't have taken a straight path home, weaving instead through the back roads just in case you were followed. From the way Daryl's fingers stilled and he tensed beneath you when the truck doors slammed open, you were pretty sure you still weren't home yet. 

You decided to keep pretending to be asleep, having a bad feeling you knew what was coming. As long as you were laying against him, Daryl wouldn't be doing anything violent. 

You hoped. 

Turned out you were right, and Glenn's angry voice came from behind you, yelling about Merle. Again. 

"You can't be serious, Rick! You're going to let Merle Dixon back into the group?" Glenn was yelling. 

"I didn't say-" 

"Do you see his face?" Maggie snapped, and you knew she was talking about Glenn.

"Governor's probably on his way to the prison right now," Daryl said. "Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle." 

"I'm not having him there," Maggie said bluntly. 

Daryl huffed behind you. "Come on! You're gonna cut Merle loose, but you'll bring the Last Samurai home?"

You almost laughed and gave yourself away at that one. Looks like everyone had been spending too much time with you. 

"She's not coming, either-" Rick started.

"He put a gun to Maggie's head! And do you really want him sleeping in cell next to Carol or Beth?" Glenn interrupted. 

Uh-oh. 

"He ain't a rapist," Daryl said, sounding slightly bewildered. You opened your eyes and met Merle's across from you. He wasn't moving, wasn't trying to argue in his own defense, and for that, you were very grateful. There was that flash in his eyes again, just a hint of regret. 

"His buddy is!" Glenn snapped. 

Ah, there it is. 

"The hell are you talkin' about?" Daryl growled behind you, and you closed your eyes again. 

"Maggie?" Rick said at the same time. 

"No," Maggie said quietly. "Not me." 

You felt the moment Daryl stopped breathing. The whole group was silent. 

"YN?" Rick whispered. 

"She distracted him. He came at me; he could tell she was stronger than I am, so he came to the one he thought would break. And I would have, but then, she just- she pissed him off, and even when he- she didn't tell him anything. She took it for me, and then I'm still the one who broke," Maggie whispered back, her voice ragged. "I'm the one who told him where we were, and how many we are."

Daryl was utterly still beneath you, practically immobile, but you could hear the way his heart was pounding, and the muscle in his arm was twitching slightly with the effort of holding himself still.

"When she wakes up, Merle- I'm gonna kill you myself." There was that voice you'd heard when you woke up after Shane, Daryl's but not Daryl's. 

Ok, it was probably time to intervene. This whole thing was getting a little out of hand. 

"I'm awake, Dixon," you said. He jerked a little, and his arm around you loosened immediately. 

"I need you to get up then, YN," he said, and you finally opened your eyes with a sigh and tilted you head up to look at him. 

He was staring at his brother across from him, and his jaw was tight. There was a look to his eyes you hadn't seen ever, not even with Shane, and you shivered a little. You stretched up a little and kissed his jaw, and his eye twitched. 

"I don't think so, Daryl," you said softly, but you shifted in his arms so that you could see the whole group, leaning your back against Daryl's chest. 

"Why the hell not?" he growled. 

You shrugged. "You're warm. I'm comfortable. I'm pretty sure I've got broken ribs from where Merle kicked me, and I'm also reasonably certain that as long as I stay here, you're not going to try to kill him." 

Merle starting laughing across from you, but he stayed very still as Rick pulled his gun and aimed it at his head. "Oh, she is a feisty one, little brother. And she's got your number, too; yes siree." 

"Merle," you said pleasantly. "Just shut the fuck up, ok? I'm tryin' to keep you alive here, and you runnin' your mouth is not gonna help." 

"I wanna know why you're tryin' to keep him alive," Daryl growled. "You should let me kill him and be done with it." 

You sighed and shifted a little, trying to ease some of the pain in, well, everywhere. "Because, Dixon, he's your brother. You told me how hard it was to leave him behind the first day we met. You wear his vest everywhere. Hell, you drive his damn bike. I'm pretty sure you'd be a little upset later if you killed him now that you've found him again." Merle was grinning a little, and you held up a finger at him. "Shut up, Merle. It's his bike and his vest now, and you can kiss my ass." 

"Come on, YN," Glenn said. "You can't be serious with this." 

"I am," you snapped at Glenn, taking your eyes from Merle slowly. "Glenn, honey, I love you. You're family to me. But you really should have kept your mouth shut and left me out of it. That was mine to share if I wanted to, not yours. And you sure as hell should have known better than to just blurt it out in front of Daryl like that. I know you're mad. I get it," your voice softened as Glenn looked down, away from you. "But I was the one he attacked, not you, not Maggie. Me. And if I say Merle fucking Dixon had nothin' to do with it, then that's it. Ok?" 

Glenn sighed and looked toward the woods. Maggie looked guilty, but she nodded first. 

"Ok," Glenn said. 

You smiled at him sadly, and turned back to Merle. "But," you continued. "Don't think you're off the hook yet, Merle. You had a knife to my throat, and you damn near killed my friend. And you held a gun to another of my friends." 

"Exactly," Rick said. "We can't have him there." 

"I didn't say that," you said calmly. "We need him." 

"The hell we do!" Daryl snarled, and you sighed. 

"Dixon, please. You and I both know you're going to forgive him. He helped us get out," you said. Then you frowned. There had been something bothering you for a while, trying to get your attention from the corner of your brain. "Actually, I think he was tryin' to help us- me, Maggie, and Glenn- get out even earlier." 

"What are you talking about?" Glenn said quietly. 

You leaned forward with a pained grunt. "Merle." He met your eyes, arms resting on his knees and Rick's gun at his head. 

"Don't bullshit me or give me any of your crap. Just answer me. When you came to the cell with the one other henchman, when we attacked you with the walker bones, were you going to help us get out?" 

Silence descended on the truck. Daryl's hand on your arm trembled a little. Rick's eyes glanced from you to Merle, and Maggie had her hands pressed to her mouth. The Samurai hadn't moved since the truck stopped. 

Merle just stared at you for a long moment, and you didn't think he was going to answer. Even to save his own fucking life, you didn't think Merle Dixon was going to be real. 

But you were wrong. 

"I'm an asshole," he started out, looking only at you. "I'm an old, ignorant, redneck asshole. I've done a lot of awful things in my life. I've killed people, even before the dead started walkin'. I abandoned my little brother with our abusive father, foolin' myself into believin' dear old dad would only have hit me, not him. I made things worse in Atlanta, and was plannin' on robbin' those people blind before haulin' ass away from them with little brother here. I've been a crude, stubborn hick all my life, little better than a druggie and a brawler." 

His eyes shifted to a spot just behind you, and you knew he was looking at Daryl. "But I have never laid a hand on a woman without her permission. I've never struck a woman neither, except the dead, until I kicked you in that arena, and I wouldn't have done that either if I had seen another way around it. Oh, I'd kill a woman, no question, especially if she were tryin' to kill me, but I'd do it fast and I'd do it clean. I'm goin' to hell when I die, little brother, but I swear on whatever might be above, I didn't know he could do a thing like that. I've never been so damn ashamed in my life as I was when he walked those two in there, half naked, and I saw those hand prints he left on your woman's back." 

Merle looked back into your eyes. "I was comin' to help you. He'd ordered you moved, and I was gonna do it myself. Kill the other guy, have one of you give me a couple good hard blows, and say you escaped. But when you attacked, it drew the others. Had to make it look real, or he'd'a just ordered you dead on the spot, and me with ya."

Rick dropped his gun as you nodded. 

"Fuck," Daryl said, his hand gripping your arm hard now. 

"Ok," you said quietly to Merle. "I thought so." 

"How the hell did you know?" Glenn asked you, wildly. 

"It was in his eyes. I was watching him, while we were in that room. I saw the way he looked at me, at Maggie, at the- the Governor-" your voice hitched a little on his name, a weakness you hated yourself for, and Daryl's arm wrapped back around you. You grabbed his hand and held on tight, grounding yourself in the moment. "He had the look of someone calculating odds. And when he left, and I told him Daryl would kill him? I saw it in his eyes there too. I just didn't know if I could trust it."

"Do you trust it now?" Rick asked you seriously, and you nodded. "Ok," he said. "We bring him back with us." 

Glenn looked a little murderous, still, but Maggie touched his arm. "Glenn," she said quietly. "Just leave it." 

"No, Glenn, I understand," you told him. "Here's the thing, Merle. You tortured Glenn. And don't think I've forgotten about that walker," you added, glaring at Merle. "When I can get some force behind it again, one day when you least expect it, I'm gonna punch you in the face for that." 

The sudden shock of Daryl's laugh, the one only you got out of him, made all of you jump. Merle joined with him, too, a low rumbling chuckle that sounded a lot different from the cocky, asshole laugh you'd heard from him before. 

"Ok then, little sister," Merle told you. "You've got a freebie then. I'll wait for it." Then he looked at his brother and grinned. "I think you might have just found yourself the baddest bitch in the world, baby brother." 

"Yeah," was all Daryl said, but you heard the warmth in his voice. 

"Glenn, Maggie, here's what I think. Merle, you're going to agree to this. You don't have a choice. We take Merle with us and keep him separate. He stays behind a locked door, and Daryl, Rick, and I will have keys, until everyone feels comfortable with him around. Do we agree?" You were pressing, pushing them to a resolution, because you were trying not to show Daryl any hint of how much pain you were in. But you needed to get checked out by Hershel, and you needed some broad-spectrum antibiotics. You wondered if there were any left from Merle's stash, and just how ironic would it be if Merle getting the clap on occasion saved you from getting an STD? 

Jesus, you were so tired and in pain.

Glenn and Rick were agreeing, and Merle just nodded his acceptance. Oh thank God, now you could get back on the road. 

But no, apparently not. 

"You," Rick turned his gun to the woman who had been so still and silent during this whole thing that you'd frankly forgotten she was there. "You're not coming back with us." 

"Oh for fuck's sake, Rick, why the hell not?" you snapped, and then you moved a little too fast and the world blurred for a minute. "Jesus!" 

"Woman, how bad are you hurt?" Daryl snapped. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you answered through gritted teeth. "Rick, why would she not come back with us? She helped get us out of there!" 

"And then she disappeared! Where'd you go?" Rick snarled at her. 

You turned to look at her. "Ok, Samurai, that's a fair question," you muttered.

She twitched a smile at the name. "I had someone of my own to get out. Didn't work. But I got a chunk of the Governor in the process." 

"Apocalypse Barbie!" you blurted suddenly, and Merle's loud guffaw rang out. 

The Samurai looked confused. 

"That may be the best damn description of Andrea I have ever heard, girlie," Merle said, and then all the others were talking at once. 

"Andrea?" "Where?" "She's alive?" 

"Did you see her?" The Samurai asked you seriously. 

"At the arena. She was tryin' to get the Governor to stop the fight," you answered her. "Why was she there? How is she alive?" 

"I've been with her all winter. We ran into the Governor's men, and Merle, and they took us to Woodbury. Andrea was sick, and they gave her medicine, but the Governor-" she shook her head. "He scared me. Seemed like a real Jim Jones type, and I was right. I left, but she wouldn't. Then Merle here chased me through the woods trying to bring back my head for him. I got away, but he shot me." 

She looked over the others for a moment before returning her eyes to you. "I saw him take you. Brought the formula and baby gear you'd dropped to Rick. And your bow," she added. 

"Thank God!" you muttered. "I was afraid they'd kept it." 

She smiled faintly. "Rick's man patched me up, then he threatened me, then I helped." 

You leaned back against Daryl and closed your eyes with a sigh. "Rick, can we please just agree to bring her back? She helped. She had a friend in danger too. Her friend is, sort of, our friend. Well, your friend. Andrea was always a bitch to me. No offense," you added, opening one eye to look at the Samurai. She just waved one hand, dismissing it. 

Rick hesitated for a moment. 

"Come on, Rick!" you snapped. "Look, we could debate some more, but I'm pretty sure I've got broken ribs, I need a vaginal exam and some antibiotics, and I'm pretty certain I'm going to need some stitches. Or hasn't anyone noticed the blood on my jeans?" 

You heard Daryl's inhaled breath, and saw Rick pale. Merle was smiling at you again for some reason, but damn it, you really were in pain, and you did not have the energy to figure him out right now. 

"Also, I might have another concussion from when he slammed me on the table. And that's not even touching on Glenn. So can we, please, please, just fuckin' go?" you complained. 

Rick nodded, and you went.


	38. This Is Gonna Suck Ass For Sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of rape/non con  
> discussion of/treatment of injuries from rape/non con

You started shaking and shivering on the ride home. Merle watched you with concerned eyes, and Daryl mumbled a steady stream of curses every time Rick hit a bump and you couldn't help but show the pain- which was often, because Rick drove like a fucking madman now.

Finally, you needed a distraction. "Someone catch me up on what's been happening while we were gone," you grunted out as Rick bounced the truck right over a walker's body and you saw stars from the jolt. 

"You don't need to worry about any of that, woman," Daryl growled at you, but Merle chuckled. 

"Look at her, baby brother. She's not worryin', she's lookin' for a distraction," he said. "Come on, little brother, you got you a first class woman there. Live up to her." 

"Merle, shut the fuck up," you snapped, but it lacked the heat you were aiming for as another shudder racked you. "You don't get to talk to him like that." 

"Like what, sweetheart?" he asked, and it was the asshole voice you'd come to know. And, you realized, it was the distraction you'd needed, just in a different way that you'd expected. 

"Like he's less than you, or not good enough. You are not goin' to abuse him the way you used to; not while I'm around," you warned, dead serious. "I knew someone who talked to me like you talk to him. It didn't end well." 

"Oh, yeah?" Merle asked, looking from Daryl to you. "What happened?" 

"I stabbed him in the neck with kitchen scissors." You hated the way your voice came through chattering teeth. Daryl shrugged out of his vest and wrapped it around you, adding a layer to Merle's shirt that you were still wearing. It didn't help much, but you appreciated the gesture. 

You were pretty sure the shock was setting in, as well as a fever. 

Merle whistled. "Hell, darlin', you don't play, do you?" 

You just shrugged a little, and curled in closer to Daryl. 

Merle was watching you, nodding to himself. You looked over to the Samurai, who's name you still hadn't caught. She was still silent, watching everything that was happening. She caught your eyes immediately. 

"So, what's your story?" you asked. Rick took a turn a little too fast, and only Daryl's arm around you kept you from sliding all the way over to Merle. 

"Damn it, Rick!" Daryl yelled, and you saw Rick wave one hand out of the window in apology. Thankfully, you were almost home. 

"No story," the Samurai said simply, shrugging.

"Well, let's start with a name, unless you want me to just call you Samurai all the time," you pressed. 

"She'll probably do that anyway," Daryl said, unexpectedly, and everyone chuckled but you. 

"I mean- Ok, yeah, he's not wrong," you finally conceded with a grin. 

She was still smiling. "Michonne," she said after a beat. "But Samurai works fine, too." 

"Hey, Michonne. Thanks for the save. In case none of these guys bothered to say it." You gestured at Rick and Daryl. Daryl muttered something uncomfortably under his breath, and Michonne dipped her head in acknowledgement, that tiny amused smile still on her lips. 

And then you were at the gates, and Carl was hauling the outer gate open. Rick peeled by him and you turned to watch as he dropped a walker with his knife that tried a little too hard to follow the truck and then pulled the gate closed again. He was locking the inner gate and then took off at a dead run toward the prison when Rick slammed on the brakes and the truck screeched to a stop. 

Everyone in the bed was thrown to the side a little and you let out a short, strangled scream. 

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Rick called as he jumped from the cab. He let down the tailgate and held out his hand. "Come on, I've got you." 

Daryl slid both of you to the tailgate, and Rick steadied you as you climbed down. Merle hopped down at the same time and took your elbow as Daryl vaulted from the truck. Then Daryl shoved both of them aside and just scooped you into his arms. 

"Get Glenn!" he said over his shoulder to Rick, and you were watching behind him as Rick and Maggie supported Glenn between them while Glenn looked like he'd rather fall over than take the help. Michonne slid slowly from the truck and waited with Merle until Rick jerked his head and they fell into place behind you and Daryl, and the other three brought up the rear. 

As Daryl shifted you in his arms to yank open the door, you saw Carl run up and grab Rick's arm, talking to him urgently. Then you were through, and Daryl was yelling for Hershel. 

Hershel was in the common area, and he came hobbling toward you as Daryl darted down the steps. "How bad?" he asked. 

"Bad enough," Daryl snapped, and it was then that you noticed the other four people in the room. 

What the hell?

"Who the hell are these guys?" Daryl snarled, but he was striding through the door to the cells. You saw Beth, holding the baby and looking very pale, and then Carol was running up as well. 

Wait. Carol? Carol was alive? 

How was Carol alive? 

"Glenn," Daryl snapped. "Carol, help Glenn." 

There were raised voices coming from the common area, Rick's and Hershel's and someone you didn't recognize, but Carol nodded and was gone. 

Daryl took you into your cell and laid you gently down on the lower bunk, dropping to his knees beside you and grabbing your hand. "Damn it, Hershel!" he yelled, and then Hershel was at the door. 

"All right now, " he said in his calm voice. "Let me see. What do we need to be looking at, YN?"

"Everything," Daryl snarled, and you squeezed the hand that held yours tightly. 

"Daryl," you whispered. He dropped his head to the edge of the bed as you focused on Hershel. "I think my ribs are broken. I was knocked out, and then my head was slammed into a table later. And-" you couldn't get the words out, and Daryl did it for you. 

"Bastard raped her," he growled. 

"So we'll need a vaginal exam as well," Hershel said steadily, and you blessed his quiet, gentle competence. "Ok. Let's get started." 

He checked your eyes with a small flashlight, examined the cut on your head from your encounter with Shane (good God, you really had been having a shitty week here lately!), and the surrounding bruises. His touch was light as he checked around your head for other wounds, the brush of his fingers cool as he laid a hand on your forehead. 

"Hmmm," he said quietly. "There is a possibility of concussion. While that worries me with the previous one having been not so long ago, if you can just stay on your feet and protect that head, it should be fine. Now, let's see those ribs," he continued, and gently started to undo the buttons on Merle's shirt. 

"Wait," you said, grabbing his hand. "I don't- look, I'm not usually all that shy, but he took my bra too. I don't have anything under this- Daryl-" 

Daryl nodded, and you saw the tears sliding down his face. He turned to your bags, and rooted around in yours before coming up with another of your sports bras. Hershel nodded, and Daryl helped you sit up. Hershel looked away as you undid the shirt with shaking hands, and Daryl helped you pull the sports bra over your head before easing you back down. 

You just weren't ready to be exposed like that again, but the simple acceptance of the old veterinarian had kept that blind panic at bay. Daryl's eyes as he took in the state of your torso were completely blank, and he took your hand gently in his again. He stroked your hair with his other hand, and you leaned into his touch.   
Hershel's fingers probed your ribs and you saw stars, gasping a little and clutching Daryl's hand tighter. 

"Hey!" Daryl snapped at Hershel, but Hershel snapped back. 

"I have to find out the extend of the injuries. She's covered in bruises, Daryl. I don't exactly have any anesthesia to work with. I'll do my best to be gentle, but sometimes there's no help for it." 

"It's ok. I'm ok," you said through your teeth as Hershel kept probing down your rib cage. "I'm just goin' to kick your idiot brother's ass," you added, hoping to make Daryl smile. 

"I'll do it for you," he snarled instead. 

"Neither of you will be doing anything of the sort," Hershel said calmly. "Ok, I think only one of these is broken. When we're finished with everything else, we'll wrap you up to support them, but it's going to have to heal up on it's own. I suggest," he looked into your eyes sternly, "that you refrain from trying to kick anyone's ass for at least a week." 

"Ok, Doc," you said with a grin. "I'm pretty sure I can handle that. I could use a week off." 

"I bet," he agreed, and then his face got serious. "Ok, sweetheart, now we need to take a look at the rest of you. Can you give me some details on what happened? These bruises coming around your back look a lot like hand prints, and I'm concerned about the ones on your stomach. They're in a straight line, but they're over some pretty vital organs." 

Suddenly, there was no oxygen in the room; none in your lungs. You were gasping for breath, and it was only Daryl's hand on your cheek, turning your head to make you look in his eyes that brought you back from the white hot edge of a panic attack.

"Come on, now, breathe, woman, breathe. Stay with me, darlin', that's it now," his voice was low and soothing, like always. 

You had air again. You reached out the hand he wasn't already holding to lay your hand over his. 

"I'm ok. I'm ok. Sorry," you said quietly, and he shook his head fiercely. 

"Don't," was all he said. 

"He's right," Hershel put in. "You're holding up to all this way better than we've expected you to, and this is going to test you to the limits." 

You nodded, and told him, in as little detail as you could, about what the Governor had done. When you finished, Daryl pushed to his feet and started pacing the small space of the cell. 

"Son," Hershel said quietly. "Control yourself and sit back down here and help her, or get out. I need to examine her now, and she's going to need everyone around her to be calm." 

Daryl spun around and snarled at Hershel, getting ready to rip into him, but you raised a hand to him. 

"Daryl, please. I can't- I need-" you couldn't form the words, because you knew what was coming next, and he dropped to his knees at your side again. 

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm here," he whispered, and you held on tightly to his hand as you looked to Hershel. 

"Ok. It's ok, Doc," you told him, and he nodded. 

"I'm going to drape this blanket over your legs," he said quietly. "Then I'm going to need to take off your jeans and take a look, ok? I'll be as fast as possible." 

You nodded stiffly, feeling every muscle in your body tense, but you bent your knees up, and then closed your eyes, jaw tight, as Hershel slid your jeans down, pulling them all the way off. 

There was silence, for a moment, and then he let out a deep breath. "YN, I need you to look at me now," he said, and pulled the blanket so it covered you completely. 

You opened your eyes and met his. 

"You need some stitches," he told you, and Daryl growled beside you, but you just squeezed his hand once and nodded at Hershel. 

"And I'm going to need to bring someone in here to help me," he continued, and Daryl interrupted. 

"I'll do it," he snarled. 

"No," you said. He swung his eyes to you, looking murderous. 

"Why the hell not?" he snapped. 

"Because I need someone to hold her legs down while I put these stitches in," Hershel answered, holding your gaze. "And that's going to be rather traumatic for her, considering why she needs them. She's going to panic, Daryl, and she'll need you to help her through that, not be the one holding her down." 

"Goddamn it," Daryl whispered. "I- Goddamn it." 

"It's ok, Dixon," you told him, touching his face. "I knew it already. I'll be ok, but Doc's right. I need you here, to keep me steady. Please." 

He nodded, one tear sliding down his cheek, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

"Ok," Hershel patted your arm. "Now, who do you want me to bring in to help? How about Maggie?" 

"No!" Your objection was instant and strong. "No, not Maggie. She can't- she already blames herself." 

Hershel was looking at you with narrowed eyes, and you realized he only knew the minimum of what had happened, and not that Maggie had been at risk. But he nodded his head and waited while you thought. 

"Daryl, go get Merle," you finally said. 

"Why the hell would I get Merle?" He sounded totally bewildered, and even Hershel looked confused. 

"Because I already hate him a little bit, so it won't be any worse if he's holdin' me down. And I know he won't freak out over how bad it is," you said bluntly. "Plus, when you feel like punching the person hurting me in the face, I won't have to object if it's Merle." 

Daryl was just staring at you, but he shook his head finally. 

"Go on, Dixon, I don't have all day here," you snapped, and Daryl nodded and headed out of the cell.


	39. Oh, Look, You Were Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of rape/non con  
> treatment of injuries from rape/non con  
> cannon divergence

You could hear the yelling from the cell. Hershel checking your pulse and then laid his hands on your forehead again, frowning, and you knew you had a fever. Probably the beginning of an infection, and you knew you'd need antibiotics. 

Which, of course, you didn't have, because they'd all been given to Hershel for his leg. 

Fuck. 

What was taking so long out there? 

"Just get out! Get out!" Rick's voice was yelling, and you heard the crazy in there and wondered what in the hell was going on and if you needed to take care of it. 

There was the sound of the cell block door slamming, and more raised voices, including Daryl's, but everything fucking hurt, and you wanted this over with now, goddamn it. 

"Son of a bitch, both Dixons better get their asses in here right the fuck now!" you screamed, as loud as you could, and Hershel looked vaguely surprised as silence descended on the cell block. 

Then the curtain was being pulled back and Daryl was dragging his brother into the cell behind him. 

"You asked for me, little lady?" Merle drawled, and that was it. You were so done. 

"Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up. I need stitches, Merle, from what your bastard boss did. Plus, you broke one of my ribs, and I'm goin' to kick your ass for that later, when it doesn't hurt so much to just fuckin' breathe. But right now, the doc here is goin' to be causin' me some pain, and you need to hold me down so I don't start thrashin' around while he does." 

The blood drained from Merle's face and he looked from you to his brother and back. "Why in the hell are you askin' me to do that, sugar?" he said, and he sounded terrified. 

"Because I already hate you a little," you answered bluntly. "And I'm gonna be hatin' whoever is holding me down while this happens, because I'm going to have a full-scale panic attack any second now. So let's just get this over with so I can get that out of the way and go find out why Rick's gone full Shane again." 

Daryl snorted, and Merle looked, if possible, even more concerned. But Hershel was already taking over. 

"Ok, Merle, come around to this side, and lean over her. Yes, like that, good. Daryl, you stay where you are. Ok, YN, take a deep breath. I'm going to lift this blanket and get started." 

You closed your eyes, and Daryl took both your hands in his, holding on as tightly as you did. He leaned down to you and started whispering in your ear, but you weren't really listening, because you were focused on staying absolutely still. 

And on breathing. Your lungs were filling up with iron. 

Then Hershel started on the first stitch and you just screamed, just screamed as loud as you could, letting all the fear and rage and pain out through your voice. 

"Oh Jesus, oh hell, oh fuck," Merle was saying, over and over, and you would have laughed if you weren't focused so hard on not moving a muscle. 

And on screaming. 

Then you heard Daryl whispering in your ear. "That's it, you're doin' great, baby, just hold on. Just hold on, woman, I got you. Oh, God, I'm so sorry; I'm so sorry. Jesus, I love you. I love you. I love you," he repeated, over and over, and you clung to that sound, and stopped screaming, so you could listen to those words better. 

Hershel started on the third stitch. "Ok, YN, almost done. You're doing great. Just got to finish it off now, sweetheart. And there, we're done. Now I'm going to pour some of this antiseptic cleanser over you. It's probably going to sting some, but then it'll be over." 

Then he was lowering the blanket back down so you were covered, and Merle was backing off of you, and a drop of sweat rolled down your forehead and into your eye. 

"Thanks, Doc," you said, and your voice was almost as hoarse as it had been after Shane, from the strength of your scream. 

"You did amazing, sweetheart. Now you stay in here and rest awhile," Hershel instructed, but you shook your head. 

"No, I'm sorry. I can't do that. I've got to go out there, check on Maggie and Glenn and find out what's going on." 

Merle, of all people, started to object, but Daryl cut him off. "Is she ok to walk around, Hershel?" he asked. 

Hershel hesitated, but nodded. "Just be careful. Nothing fast, don't lift anything, and don't do anything violent." 

"Thank you," you breathed. 

"We'll leave you to get dressed again," Hershel said, reaching for his crutches and pulling himself to his feet. "I'm going to go examine Glenn now." 

"Merle, just go to the common area and don't get into any trouble," you told Daryl's brother. He nodded and started to follow Hershel out of the cell. "And hey," you called to him. He turned back, raising his eyebrows. "Thanks," you said, and he just shook his head and left. 

"Ok, Dixon," you said tiredly. "I need some pants. And a shirt." 

"Just- just wait a minute," Daryl said, his voice ragged. "Just- come here. Please." 

He laid down beside you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulled you in to rest against his chest. You let out a long, hard sigh, and tangled your hand in his shirt. He buried his face in your hair and you felt his chest heave as his breath hitched, and you felt the dampness in your hair as he started to cry again. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, again. "I should have found you faster. I should have- I should have been with you. I'm so sorry." 

"No, don't do that. Don't," you said urgently. "It's not your fault. Don't take this on, Daryl. Don't. I'm ok. I survived, and Glenn survived, and Maggie didn't get hurt." 

"How the hell are you talkin' about Maggie right now?" he snapped. "She's fine. You're the one covered in bruises and stitches- Jesus!" 

"That's why," you said quietly. "That's why I'm talkin' about Maggie. Because I'm terrified, Daryl, and I don't want to be. So I'm reminding myself of why I did it. Because I can handle it. And I knew- in that room, when that man came in, I knew it would be bad. As soon as he told us to take our shirts off, I knew I had to protect Maggie. She's so strong, but she's never- she's never had somethin' like this happen before. It would have broken her, and I knew it wouldn't break me. If it didn't break me when it was someone who claimed to love me, then it couldn't break me if it was just some dick trying to get information. I'm stronger than that." 

Daryl was cradling you like you might shatter into a thousand pieces if he let you go. "You are the toughest son of a bitch in the world, and I love you so much. I love you," he said again, pressing another kiss to your hair. "Oh, God, this is not how I wanted to say it the first time, but I love you. And I'm gonna kill him. I promise." 

"I hope I get to watch," you said simply, and he snorted out a reluctant laugh. You snuggled into his arms a little more. "I love you too," you whispered against his chest, and he shuddered and sighed, his hand stroking your hair. 

"I'm sorry I keep gettin' into stuff like this. I swear, I don't go lookin' for trouble," you said quietly. 

He snorted. "You don't have to go lookin' for it. It just finds you." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "What was Rick yellin' about? And who were those people in there?" you asked suddenly. 

"Oh," Daryl said, and he let you sit up slowly. "Yeah. We should go talk to the others. Somethin' happened with Rick. Those other people left, but I need- I need to talk to Carl and Carol." 

"Oh my God, Carol!" you exclaimed, having forgotten in all that had happened that you had seen her. "How is she alive? When did she come back? For that matter, when did Rick start bein' Rick again?"

Holy shit, you had missed a lot. 

Daryl was staring at you as you shifted around and started to lean forward to grab your bag. "Stop it, woman, let me get that," he snapped, and scooped your bag from the ground. He pulled out your other pair of jeans and tossed them to you, followed by a tank top. Then he reached in his bag and pulled out the only shirt he had left that he hadn't ripped the sleeves off of and handed it to you too. 

"I found her, down in the lower levels. She got away from the walkers and hid. I'd sent Carl and Oscar back up to the cell block when I found her. I needed some time. When I brought her up to the cell block, Rick and Carl had Michonne in the common area. Apparently Rick'd come back while I was gone," he filled you in as you pulled the clothes on slowly. You were stuffing your feet in your boots and looking around for your gun belt when he continued. 

"Rick told us he'd been gettin' phone calls from the people we'd lost, but that he was ok now, and then Michonne told us about you guys bein' taken, and well, things got busy. We lit out as soon as she told us which way we were goin'." 

He helped you up and you leaned on him for a minute before you started walking. He held back the blanket over the cell door so you could pass and kept talking as you headed down the row of cells. 

"Carl brought in those other people, but when I went to get Merle, Rick was talkin' to them. I thought he was gonna let 'em stay, but then he just pulled his gun and started screamin' at nothin', and they ran. I don't blame them none, either. Rick's got somethin' seriously wrong goin' on right now." He finished talking in a whisper as you got to the common room. 

"YN!" Carl called and sprang up from one of the tables as you came in. He looked scared, and you felt your heart clench, along with a stab of guilt. He'd lost his mom, his dad had gone crazy, and then you'd disappeared, all in a rush. Poor kid was probably traumatized all to hell. 

"Hey, Grimes," you said with a smile, holding your arm out to him, on the side that didn't have a broken rib. 

"Easy," Daryl murmured to Carl as he ran up and slid under your arm, and he nodded and hugged you gently. 

"I'm so glad you're ok. They wouldn't let me come try to rescue you," he said into your shirt. 

"And well they shouldn't have," you answered, holding him tight. "Someone had to stay here and watch your sister. Last man standin', my friend, that was you." 

He flashed you a grin and stayed at your side, with your arm over him, and you looked around the room. Glenn and Maggie sat at a table with Hershel, holding hands. Maggie had tears in her eyes as she looked at you, and Glenn gave you a nod as Hershel dabbed at a cut above his bruised and swollen eye. 

Oh yeah, you owed Merle a punch or two. 

Merle leaned against the wall as far from the others as he could get, and Michonne sat at a table by herself near him. Beth was feeding the baby on the other side of the room, and there, grinning at you, was Carol. 

"Carol," you breathed, feeling the grin spread over your face. "I am so glad to see you!" 

Carol laughed. "I'm so happy you're back!" she answered you, and walked over. You wrapped your free arm around her shoulders, and she hugged back gently. 

"Where's Rick?" you asked when she pulled away. 

Glenn looked at the door uncomfortably. "He left, after driving away the others that Carl found." 

"Yeah, about that," you said, turning to look at Carl. "What the hell, kid?" 

"Come on, YN," Carl tugged at your arm, leading you over to one of the tables. "Sit down." 

"Yes, please do," Hershel called, giving you a look. You eased onto the bench, and Daryl jumped up to sit on the table above you. Carl sat at your side, and you tossed your arm back around him even as you leaned against Daryl's knee. 

"So?" you asked Carl. "Tell me about the people." 

"I heard them fighting in the hallways. I went to investigate. I was the only one here, and I had to keep Judith and Beth and Carol and Hershel safe." His voice had a bit of a challenge to it as he met your eyes, but you just nodded. 

"Judith?" was all you said. 

He smiled. "My sister," he said proudly. "I named her after my third grade teacher." 

You smiled back at him, remembering your conversation in a sunny field on the farm, while Carl practically skipped beside you and talked like a kid should talk. "That's a beautiful name," you told him, and he practically glowed. 

"Thanks. I went to go find out what was going on, and they were being cornered by walkers. I saved them, and brought them back here. I locked them in the common room and took their weapons, so they couldn't get to any of us. I was waiting for Dad to come back with you guys." The defensiveness was back, like he was waiting for you to get mad at him, but you just squeezed his shoulders. 

"You did good, Grimes," you told him, and he leaned into you. 

"YN?" he asked. 

"Yeah, kid?" 

"I think my dad is crazy," he whispered.


	40. Chasing Ghosts and Other Things You Suck At

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm sorry. The last few chapters have been a LOT, but I swear it gets better from here! 
> 
> cannon divergence  
> general all around trauma discussion

"Carl," you started, but he pushed out of your arms. 

"No. I really think he's crazy. You didn't see him!" Carl's voice was urgent as he gestured wildly. "He was waving his gun around and yelling at the air! Judith was in here. Those people I found? They didn't do anything. Just buried their friend. We helped, and they waited for Dad to come back. The guy treated me like an adult. They seemed like good people, and then Dad went nuts and now they're gone. We needed them!" 

"Why did we need them, Carl?" you asked softly.

"To take down whoever hurt you and Glenn and Maggie!" he exploded. 

Shit. 

Merle started chuckling from his place on the wall. "Boy's right," he drawled. You shot him a look, but he just shrugged. 

"Governor's got a lot of people over there. He's gonna be pissed as hell at ole Officer Friendly, and he's gonna bring all those people after us, here," he explained. 

You winced. "Don't call Rick that," you snapped. It was way too close to what you called Shane. Merle just shrugged. 

"We need a plan, guys. We need Rick," you muttered to yourself, and you started to get up. 

"What we need is some antibiotics," Hershel cut in. "You've been running a fever since you got back, and between you and Glenn there's a lot of chance for infection. Someone needs to make a run." 

"I'll go," Daryl said, and your heart clenched. 

"I'll go with ya, baby brother," Merle offered. You both eyed him suspiciously. 

Merle sighed. "Aight folks, I'll say it for you once. I'm loyal to two people on God's green earth- my little brother, and this damn fine woman he's found. She's the toughest son of a bitch I've ever seen, and I owe her a debt for those injuries. I'll go with ya, little brother, and get you back here to take care of her." 

Daryl glanced at you and you nodded to him. He grunted at Merle. "Aight. Come on then." 

He jumped down from the table and pulled you to your feet. "Go get some rest, woman," he said in a low voice. 

You shook your head. "I need to talk to Rick. We need him." 

Hershel was talking to Merle while Glenn glared at him. Little Ass-kicker had started crying, and Carl had gone over to where Beth had her and started fixing her a bottle, but he was watching you and Daryl with concerned eyes. Carol was looking through your food that was available, and she had several plates out and lined up. 

You leaned into Daryl's arms. "Be careful. With Rick acting so strange and Glenn and I all beat up, we're down a lot of our fightin' strength. I'm worried," you said honestly. 

He rubbed a hand along your back. "I know. We'll be fast. I've got a place in mind already, just hadn't had a chance to go yet in all the madness." 

You pulled back, and he cradled your face in one hand and pressed a kiss to your lips. 

"I love you," you whispered to him, and he smiled at you. 

"I love you too, woman." 

Then he was gone, swinging his crossbow up to his back and jerking his head at the door. Merle pushed off from the wall and walked by you, touching your shoulder awkwardly as he went. 

Ok then. What's next? 

Rick. You needed to find Rick; see if you could handle some of the crazy. But first you needed to check on Glenn. 

"Hey," you said to Glenn and Maggie, heading over to their table and leaning against it. "How's he doin', Maggie?" 

"I'm fine," Glenn snapped, then turned guilty eyes to you. "Sorry," he said instantly, and you waved his apology away. "Just already tired of everyone treating me like I'm down for the count. I've just got some bruises, that's all." 

"I get it," you told him seriously. "Trust me, I get it. I need your help, though." 

He nodded. "What needs doing?" 

"YN...." Maggie broke in, but Glenn stopped her with a hand over hers. 

"Maggie," you said. "Please. Don't try to tell me you're sorry or that I should be resting. There's too much to do, and it's ok. Really." You smiled at her, but she didn't smile back. "Maggie, please, just don't stop bein' my friend. Please?" 

Finally, she nodded, and something like her usual smile came back. "Ok, YN, I can do that. I am your friend." 

"Thank you," you told her, and turned back to Glenn. "We need Rick, but he's off in Crazytown at the moment. But we also need to get someone in the guard tower on watch, and we need to take a look at how those people Carl saved even got in. Can you take care of that part for me? Talk to Carl about what he saw and what they told him, and see if we can do anything about plugging that entrance?" 

Glenn was nodding, determination lighting him up when he had a goal, something concrete to accomplish to defend the place.

"Yo, Grimes!" you called to Carl, and he came over from where he'd been sitting with Beth and Judith. You noticed Handlebars, the last of the prisoners you'd rescued, was sitting over there awfully close to Beth as well, and you frowned, but then Carol walked over to them and sat down, very deliberately. You figured she had that in hand, and you turned your attention back to Carl, Maggie, and Glenn. 

"Glenn needs your help. We need to get the front of the prison secured. Can you talked to him and Maggie and tell them what you know? I'm gonna go see if I can find your dad," you told Carl, who nodded. 

You caught Samurai's eyes and nodded toward the door. She rose fluidly and fell into step behind you. Before you left, you told Hershel where you were going and what you had already put in motion, and he nodded. 

"I'll come out looking for you I don't see you again very soon," he told you with a pointed look, and you kissed his cheek. 

"Thanks, Hershel. Samurai, you're with me," you told her, and she smiled faintly. 

 

You saw Rick outside the fence, wandering around like he was looking for someone. 

"What the hell are you doin', Cowboy?" you muttered, watching him for a minute. 

"You really do the nickname thing for everyone, don't you?" Michonne said beside you, amusement evident in her tone. 

You flushed a little and looked at her, but she was smiling, so you grinned back. "Yeah," you said. "It's a bad habit, but it kinda stuck. None of them have seemed to mind so far." 

"I imagine not," she agreed. "It's obvious how much you love them. That kind of dedication leads to devotion on their part."

"You were with Barbie all winter?" You asked, changing the subject uncomfortably. You didn't want to think of anyone being devoted to you, no matter how much you loved them. You just got the people who followed you into trouble. 

She nodded, walking with you as you made your way slowly (as per doctor's orders) down the yard to where you could still see Rick. 

"I found her alone, saved her from a pack of the dead. We stayed together, until she chose the Governor, and a warm bed, over friendship." 

"Yeah, no offense or anything, but she's always been a power hungry bitch. She shackin' up with him?" you asked, and Samurai nodded. "Damn. Did you have people, before you ran into her?" 

She didn't answer, and you glanced over at her. Her face was closed off, and you knew that look. 

"Sorry," you said. "I should know better. I was with a group, ten other people, before I hooked up with these guys. They all died. Hell, about half of these guys aren't even who I joined up with! We lost- oh, God- seven? No, eight. We lost eight people since I joined them. Though with Barbie there pullin' a resurrection act, the good kind, I mean, I guess it is only seven." 

Her face became more open as you talked. "I was with a camp. It was overrun. I barely made it out, and survived for several months on my own by cutting the arms and the jaws off of two walkers. I led them with chains and they carried my things and kept me safe and unnoticed by the other walkers." 

You stared at her. "Holy hell, so you're a badass," you said in wonder, and she laughed. 

"No, just a survivor. Like yourself," she answered, and then you were at the fence, watching Rick. 

"Alright, Cowboy," you muttered. "He'll talk better if it's just me. Do you mind goin' over there a ways, give me some space to talk to him?" 

She smiled. "Not at all. Merle is right though, YN," she added as she moved off a bit. 

"He's right about what?" you asked, shading your eyes and giving her a puzzled look. 

"You do have everyone's number," she said with a grin. You scowled at her as she moved further back, giving you the space you'd asked for. Then you sighed and turned your attention back to Rick. 

"Hey, Cowboy!" you called, just loud enough to get his attention. You leaned against the fence a little, feeling the bone-deep weariness from the past who knew how many days. 

Rick looked around wildly before his gaze landed on you and he made his way over to you. 

"What's goin' on, my friend?" you asked him cautiously. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder and he was soaked with sweat. "You know I wouldn't have come all the way down here if it wasn't important," you told him seriously. "You comin' back soon? We need you now more than ever. Glenn and I are hurt, Daryl and Merle are gone on a run. I'm doin' my best here, but I'm not you." 

"If you're so worried, you lead," Rick brushed you off, and you sighed. 

"What are you doin' out here, man?" you asked gently. 

"I've- I've been- I've got... stuff out here..." 

"How much longer do you need?" you pressed, knowing it was probably no use. But you missed your friend, damn it. 

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking around and not at you. 

"Cowboy. Rick. Talk to me," you pleaded, shoving your fingers through the fence. "You've always been able to before. Maybe I can help." 

He said nothing for a long moment, and you turned with a sigh to leave. 

"I saw something," he said behind you. You turned around, and saw he had come closer to his side of the fences. You were separated by the length of the guard run, still, but it was closer than he'd been before. Your heart ached at the look in his eyes, and you were reminded of how much your friend had lost when he'd lost Lori. It wasn't just his wife; it was the wife he remembered whom he'd loved, the wife he'd had whom he'd be estranged from, and all possibility of ever being reconciled with her. It was guilt, you realized, not grief, that was driving him slowly mad. 

"What'd you see, Rick?" you asked gently. 

"Lori. I saw Lo- I'm seeing Lori," he said, looking down at the ground and then back up to you. "Look, I- I know it's not really her. But- there's gotta be a reason. It's gotta mean something, you know?" His eyes pleaded with you to understand, to not just call him crazy and write him off completely. 

Hell, it's not like you were any less insane. You had panic attacks and stopped breathing a little too regularly for your taste. Everybody's crazy somehow. 

"You see her now?" you asked him, and he shook his head. "You're looking for her, out here." 

"I'm waiting," he said. "For an answer. I know it doesn't make- well, it does. It can make sense. I think in time, it will- make sense..." 

Oh for God's sake. You had two options here, it seemed like. Option A: Let Rick have his crazy and do your best to keep him and everyone else safe, prepare for the retaliation you were sure was to follow on your own, and hope he snapped out of it soon. Or option B: give him the talking to you thought he needed, and hopefully make him snap out of it now. 

You liked option B better. He'd always seemed to respond to the direct approach. 

"Damn it, Rick," you snapped at him. "Take a good look at me, will you? Do you see my face? Here, check out my bruises." You yanked your shirt up and showed off the livid, multi-colored mess that was most of your body. 

Rick sucked in a deep breath, and something like your friend reappeared in his eyes. 

"I can't, and won't, show you the rest, because that's more embarrassment than either of us want, my friend, but let's just say I have three stitches in a very sensitive place. I'm exhausted. I'm a bruised, banged-up, traumatized mess, just like you. I should be sitting in a corner gibbering right now, man, but I'm not." You dropped your shirt back down, and Rick's eyes came back up to yours. 

"I get it," you continued, voice firm. "I do, Rick. You're feeling guilty about how things were with Lori. It was awful. You guys were all kinds of messed up, and I know you feel like it's your fault she's gone. But it's not. It's not, Rick, and you have to let go of this guilt. You have to, because I need you here. I need your help." 

Rick was shaking his head, starting to back away, and there was only one thing left you could do. 

"I can't lead these people on my own, Rick!" You yelled. "I got my last group killed trying to do that, and I can't watch your children get killed because I can't take care of them! I love them too much, and I love you too much to let you do this right now. Think of what it'll do to you, if you stay out here chasing a ghost, and I can't defend this place because I'm not good enough. Because I'm not good enough, Rick. I couldn't even keep myself safe! I'm no good against the living. They always get the best of me. So I'm asking you; I'm begging you-" There were tears rolling down your face and you were gulping down deep breaths. This was as real as you got, and if you couldn't convince him now, you knew there was nothing that could. 

"I'm begging you, Cowboy. I'll give myself to save them, any day and every day; but it won't be enough. I did all this to save Maggie and Glenn, without a second thought, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, because he knows where we are, and he's coming, and I'm so utterly terrified I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do, Rick. Please. Please." You whispered the last word, leaning against the fence to keep you up, your words directed to the ground. 

"I can't," Rick whispered. "I can't." 

The sound of a gunshot broke the quiet.


	41. Duck, Stab, Repeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

You shoved upright, whirling to look, your gun and your knife just appearing in your hands. Rick raised his rifle, looking around as wildly as you. You caught sight of Michonne, crouched behind the overturned bus, further up in the yard, near the entrance. 

Then you saw the vehicle, outside the gates away from her. The Governor was standing there, and you felt your heart stop and a roar of static filled your ears. You couldn't get a breath in through iron-filled lungs. 

Then Rick was running as someone started shooting up the bridge where he was standing, and you hit the deck to use the tall grass as cover. There was no time to worry about your ribs or your stitches; you needed to get to a defensible position. You needed to get to Rick. 

Hell, you needed to stay alive. They were shooting at you too, and it seemed at everyone else. 

You got a glimpse at the cell block in time to see Carol drop, using Axel's body for cover, and- oh god no- Beth and Carl crouched behind the metal bleachers.   
There was someone in one of the guard towers, shooting down at them. 

There was someone shooting at you right now, and getting away became too urgent to worry about anyone else anymore. You pushed into a crouch and ran along the fence line, looking for a way to get to the bus and help Michonne. A quick glance had showed her pulling a gun from somewhere and shooting back at the Governor's vehicle, but then you were running again and there was no real way to get to her. There just wasn't any cover. 

Then the shooting stopped for a moment and you heard Maggie scream Beth's name. You had one moment to breathe a sigh of relief- they were still alive at least. And then the shooting started again. 

You hoped Rick was under cover, and you popped up just long enough to fire some wild shots of your own before making a mad dash a little further along the fence. You skidded into place, panting, and took another look around, but the shooting had stopped again. 

You heard the sound of an engine revving wildly, and you lifted up enough to see an orange and white van speeding up the road to the gates. 

Holy shit, they were going to crash the gates. 

That was exactly what they did, blowing through them at a ridiculous speed, metal warping and flying through the air behind the van. It screeched to a halt, pulling off the gravel path with a spray of rock, and everything was dead silent for a moment. 

You took a quick look around and locked eyes with Rick, who was back at the fence. He nodded at you, an 'I'm ok' nod, and then the back of the van opened. 

Oh shit. 

Oh holy fucking goddamn shit. 

The van was full of walkers. 

The walkers started streaming out into the yard, and you saw Michonne trying to back away from them while still keeping her cover. How in the hell were you going to fight off walkers and bullets at the same time? Someone was dying here, and you were kind of afraid it was gonna be you. 

Then the driver of the van flung himself (oh, nice, make some gender assumptions why don't you, the perfectly calm part of your brain supplied) out and made a mad dash for the gates, and bullets started flying again, to cover his retreat. The walkers were streaming toward you, and then you heard Rick fire twice behind you. You glanced back and they were coming toward him from the woods, pulled by all the gunfire and the engine roaring. Then Rick was putting away his gun, already empty, with that face, the one you'd seen when he had declared that the group wasn't a democracy anymore. Despite everything, you felt better. Rick was back. 

And the Governor was speeding away with his men, obviously believing the walkers would handle the job for him. 

To be honest, you couldn't blame him for thinking that. 

But this bastard didn't know who you were, and you sprang to your feet, disregarding your injuries, because this was survival at stake, and started shooting. You picked four off Michonne, who gave you a look from across the field, before you came up empty as well. You tucked your gun safely away in your holster and got a better grip on your knife. You'd always been better with the knife anyway.

You know what? You were getting really fucking tired of preparing yourself to die. 

Then the Samurai was racing toward you, her sword flashing in the light as she loped off heads and split open skulls, and you grinned in genuine admiration. Oh, shit, you better focus; they were on you, too. 

Duck under one set of arms, kick back at another, up under the chin to the brain of the first. Whirl, shove, drive your knife in through the temple. 

Grab one by the shirt and pull it in front of you, use it to keep the next three at bay. 

Don't think about how your ribs hurt. Just survive. 

Knife the one in your arms and push it into the next one. Kick, whirl, duck, stab. Repeat. 

It was like a dance, and you weren't sure how many you had downed before Michonne reached your side and then two of you, both splattered in guts, turned back to back. Her sword had longer reach, and you were desperately envious, but the two of you worked well, cutting through them like a scythe. 

You were working your way toward the gates, by wordless agreement heading to pick up Rick, who you realized when you had a moment to look was just beating their heads in one by one with the butt of his pistol. 

Damn, that man was an animal! 

It wouldn't work for long, though, and holy hell, how many of the damn things had been in that van? You were afraid you wouldn't make it in time. 

Duck, stab, shove. Kick. Pull one close, nose to nose, its broken jaws snapping. Up under the chin. Toss it back. Repeat. 

This felt almost good. 

You'd been losing all your fights lately, but against these guys, you knew you could win. 

You privately admitted to yourself that you might have a bit of a control problem.

And then, just like that, it was over. You and Michonne had reached the broken gates, but there had been no need. Standing panting beside a bloody Michonne (thank God she was also out of breath, you didn't want to be shown up completely), you broke into a huge grin. 

On either side of Rick stood your favorite pair of Dixon brothers.


	42. We Need a Fucking Breather

Stay or run. Stay or run. The argument was going around and around, and you were tired. 

You leaned against the wall with each of the Dixon boys on either side of you. Rick was pacing in the middle of the hallway. Carl leaned in a corner near the door; Beth, Carol, and Judith were on the upper level; Hershel sat on the stairs. Maggie and Glenn were pacing like Rick, and Michonne was simply cleaning her sword. 

You could admit it, you had a bit of a crush on that woman. She was such a fucking badass. 

And oh yeah, you needed to get you a sword like that. 

"He's probably got scouts on every road outta this place by now," Merle said into the argument. 

"We ain't scared of that prick," Daryl shot at his brother. 

"You should be," Merle said seriously. "That truck through the fence thing? That was just him ringin' the doorbell. We've got some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place? Shoot. He could just starve us out if he wanted to." 

You let out a frustrated groan. "He's got a point, Rick." 

"This is all you!" Maggie yelled at Merle. "You started this!" 

"What's the difference whose fault it is?" Beth asked. "What do we do?" 

"I said we should leave. We can't just sit here," Hershel said. 

Rick started to walk away, but you stepped in front of him. 

"You once said this isn't a democracy, Rick. Now you have to own up to that," you told him quietly, before anyone could say anything else. Hershel stood up and came up behind Rick. 

"You're slipping. We've all seen it, and we understand why. But now's not the time. I put my family's life in your hands!" Hershel snapped at Rick, but Rick didn't move. He just met your eyes for a long moment, and nodded. 

"YN, if you're up to it, I need you and Daryl to come with me," he said to you. You pushed away from the wall with a tired sigh. 

"I'm good, Cowboy," you told him, but Merle stopped you with his hand on your arm. 

"Take the damn antibiotics first," he said, nodding to where he and Daryl had dumped a pack of fresh medical supplies on one of the tables. "And get some food and water. Can it wait that long, fearless leader?" He turned that sarcastic grin on Rick, but you saw the edge to it. 

What the hell. Was Merle fucking Dixon being overprotective? You were way too tired for this shit.

Rick just stalked over to the bag himself, digging through it until he found a bottle of antibiotics. He tossed the bottle to you and in a move that even surprised yourself, you snatched it from the air. Then he grabbed a bottle of water and a can of- oh joy, once again- beans from your pantry area. 

"Come on, you can eat and drink while we make some plans," he said with a glare at Merle. "Glenn, can you take the guard tower?" 

Glenn nodded, grabbing up one of the rifles as he jogged out the door. You ducked into your cell after touching Daryl's hand and giving Rick the 'one second' wave. You grabbed your bow and your quiver, smiling as you saw that it was full of durable, store made arrows. You reloaded your handgun, then shoved a machete into your belt along with your trusty knife. You grabbed the extra machete for Daryl too and headed back out. 

"I ain't gettin' caught like that again," you told everyone as they stared, and you passed Daryl the second machete. "Everybody goes everywhere armed, even inside."

"Merle," you clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't run your mouth. Don't antagonize anyone. Michonne, you're in charge of him. Knock him out if you need to." 

Merle just grinned at you, and you grabbed Daryl's hand and followed Rick, who was smiling too. 

"Hey, thanks for the present, Dixon," you told Daryl as you headed out the door. 

"What the hell are you talkin' about, woman?" he asked, and you grinned. 

"These shiny new arrows. So romantic," you batted your eyelashes at him. Rick tried to turn a laugh into a cough, but fooled no one, and Daryl turned pink all the way up to his ears. 

"You been bitchin' long enough, and we passed a place," he muttered, and you laughed again before Rick gestured you to the table in the courtyard. He handed you the water and the beans. 

"Eat. Drink. Take your meds," he commanded, then pulled his map of the area out of his back pocket and laid it over the table. Daryl handed you the can opener without a word and you bit back another bubble of laughter. 

How many times were you going to go through this same routine? 

But you opened the can and ate rapidly, listening in and offering your thoughts and advice as the three of you tossed out, discussed, and rejected several plans of attack. By the time you were done, you had two main options (neither very great), three contingencies of devolving effectiveness, more questions than answers, and a massive headache. 

"Rick, come on," you said tiredly, your head resting on your crossed arms against the table. "We don't know anything yet. It's getting late. Let's put two people in the guard towers, assign watch shifts, and get some sleep tonight. Regroup in the morning and talk some of these options out." You couldn't stop the yawn that stretched your face. "Jesus," you muttered. "Look, I'm exhausted, and I know you must be to. Have you even slept in the past few days?" 

"Have you?" Rick retorted, and you grimaced. 

"Probably more than you have, to be honest," you said. "Come on. Let's put Carl and Michonne in the tower first, then Carol and Maggie, then Daryl and I can take the third shift. We'll regroup in the morning." 

Rick sighed. "I'll watch with Daryl," he finally said, reluctantly. "You need the rest." 

You scowled at them both, but ruined it when you yawned again. "Ok! Ok. Fine! I'll go to bed!" 

Rick chuckled as you climbed to your feet, suddenly aware that you weren't going to have a lot of choice in the matter in a few more minutes. You weaved a little on your feet, and Daryl slid an arm around you without a word.

"Hey, YN?" Rick said as the two of you turned to go inside. You looked back over your shoulder at him, eyebrow raised. 

"Yeah, Cowboy?" 

"Thanks," he said softly. "For bringing me back." 

You just offered him a smile. "It's what I do."


	43. Downtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trauma/ ptsd nightmares

You were asleep pretty much before you even made it to your cell. Your eyes were closed and you just trusted Daryl to steer you where you needed to go. When you made it into the cell he pulled the bow and quiver off your arms, unbuckled your gun belt, and then just gave you a nudge. 

You never even opened your eyes, tipping yourself backward onto the bed. Daryl was muttering under his breath about 'damn fool women who don't know when to stop' as he pulled off your shoes, then pushed at your legs until you swung them up into the bed. You were vaguely aware of him moving around a little more, then you felt the bed move as he sat on the edge. 

"Hey, YN," he whispered, stroking your cheek. 

You groaned at him. 

"I need to see if any of this blood belongs to you. I need ya to wake up a little, woman, just enough to tell me you're ok with me lookin'." 

There was something about his tone that had you reluctantly dragging open your eyes. 

"Thought everyone was tellin' me to go to sleep," you grumped at him, trying to make his face come into focus. 

He huffed at you. "Stop bitchin', woman, and listen. I'm gonna check you for bites or scratches, ok? And make sure your ribs are wrapped good. You hear me?" 

Finally it clicked. He was making sure you knew what he was doing, so you wouldn't be scared or have a panic attack when you felt hands on you. 

Damn you loved this man. 

You smiled at him as you closed your eyes again. "I hear you, Dixon. I'm fine, but go ahead." 

He moved quickly, briskly checking first the wrapping on your ribs, then running his hands lightly over you, turning you a little so he could check your back and the back of your legs. When he was satisfied, he slipped off the bed and you heard him groan. 

"Hey, where'd you go?" you asked softly. 

"I'm right here," he answered from below you somewhere. "I'll take the floor tonight. Thought you could use some space." 

"Dixon, if you don't get your pretty ass up here in this damn bed and hold me so I can go to sleep, I swear to God I will go take Carl's watch just to spite you." You honestly couldn't be sure how much of that sentence had been in understandable English, but you meant it. 

And you'd do it too, really. Probably. 

Ok, probably not. This was a very nice pillow, and you thought you were becoming friends. It'd be a shame to leave it now. 

"You sure, darlin'?" Daryl asked, and you heard the amusement in his voice. 

"Never been surer," you muttered, scooting over in the bed. He hesitated again, but eventually slid in beside you. You curled on your side- the one with the unbroken ribs- and he curled up behind you, his arm snaking over you gently. 

You were asleep before he was completely settled. 

 

You didn't stay that way long. 

Nightmares plagued you, and you weren't surprised. You woke up gasping several times, and each time you were met with a soft "Y'aight, woman, I got you," and a kiss on the hair when you laid back down. 

But they came back, over and over, and you wondered how much sleep Daryl was even getting. 

Then you woke up from a particularly vivid one, and you woke up swinging. 

"Son of a bitch," Daryl grunted as your fist connected squarely with his jaw. "Hey, woman, y'aight?" 

You realized he was bending over you in the darkness, instead of in the bed curled around you. 

"What time is it?" you whispered, and you saw his outline shrug. 

"Don't know the exact hour. Rick just woke me up, said it was our turn. You gonna be ok?" he whispered back, his hand stroking over your hair. 

"I'm good," you lied, and you both knew it was a lie. But he nodded acceptance, and leaned over to press a kiss to your head. 

"Hey," you called as he moved to the door. "Come back here." 

"What's wrong?" he asked, and you grabbed his hand. 

"Give me a real kiss," you whispered quietly. "Please." 

He hesitated, and you started to drop his hand. 

"Ok," you said. "Never mind. Be safe." You tried to shrug it off, but you'd heard too many stories from your friends (back when you had them) of men who saw women who'd been attack like you had as 'damaged goods' and didn't want them. It didn't matter that Daryl knew all about your ex already; this was new, and it was now. It was worse than the broken rib to think Daryl might not want you anymore after this. 

Then he was sitting down on the edge of the bed, and running his fingers over your face. "Don't do that," he whispered, his voice raw. "Please. I know what you're thinkin'. It ain't like that. Just tryin' to give you some room, woman. You've been through a hell of a lot. Don't want to push is all. You need to take some time. Heal up some."

You leaned into his hand as he rubbed his thumb gently across your bottom lip. "Sorry," you whispered. "I don't want space, Dixon. I just want to be normal. I just want you." 

He made a frustrated noise, and leaned over and found your lips with his. You wrapped an arm around his neck and sighed into the kiss. He pulled back for a moment, then kissed you again, soft and tender and sweet. 

"I love ya, woman," he said against your lips, and you smiled, feeling like maybe you were going to be ok when he said that. 

"I love you too, Dixon. Now go play with Rick and let me get back to sleep!" You pushed him away playfully, content now, and he growled a little at you, but he didn't move. 

"You come find me if you need me," he said seriously, his hand still on your face. You nodded, and he stroked your lip again before finally standing up and heading to the door. 

He pulled the curtain over your doorway back a bit, and predawn light filtered in. You watched him hesitate, looking you over, and then he ducked under and dropped the curtain. 

 

You fell back asleep for a while, but woke with your heart pounding and the strangled edge of a scream in your throat. You sat up, rubbing your hands over your eyes, and looked around the gloom of your cell. 

It was obviously morning, since you could see anything at all with the blanket hanging down, and you heard the soft sounds of people more around and talking quietly. You weren't ready to leave your cell and face the day, but you also didn't really want to go back to sleep. You were really fricken tired of nightmares at this point. 

So you just sat there, listening to the sounds of the prison moving around you, and thinking about nothing. 

You heard Judith start to cry, and then Beth's voice singing to her. 

You heard Maggie giggle and Glenn's soft voice as you watched their feet shuffle by under the blanket. 

You heard the crack-click sound of someone snapping magazines into handguns.

You heard Merle's laugh and then someone shushing him, and you realized all these people were being quiet just so you could sleep. 

Damn it, now you had to get up. 

You swung your legs over and stuffed your feet in your shoes with a sigh, lacing them up with difficulty since bending over was a pain in the ass, the side, and frankly, everywhere else. You let out a groan that you tried to muffle as you pulled yourself to your feet, muscles stiff and screaming from the near-constant abuse you'd been giving them. 

You were slinging your gun belt over your hips when the curtain was ripped back from the cell and sunlight streamed in. 

"Jesus tapdancing Christ!" you yelped. 

"Sorry," Carl said, leaning in the doorway. "I heard you groan and wanted to see if you needed any help." 

"Ugh," you muttered, shoving the machete through your belt and reaching for your quiver. Carl beat you to it, bending wordlessly and handing you both your quiver and your bow. You narrowed your eyes at him, but took them, slinging them cautiously into place. "What time is it?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's not morning anymore." 

"Seriously?" you asked, incredulous. 

He flashed a grin. "Dad and Daryl said if we woke you up, they'd start feeding us to the walkers a piece at a time. I almost believed Daryl, too." 

You laughed. "Well, I guess I'd better go tell everyone thank you. What has everyone been doin'?" 

"You mean while you were lazing in bed?" Carl glanced up at you from under the brim of the sheriff's hat, his face serious, and you batted the brim down. He grinned and held the curtain back for you to duck under and out of the room. 

"Well, Dad and Daryl announced that we were going to stay here and try to fight. Then we went out and cleared the walkers from the field that had come in overnight. Then Daryl went out through the woods to see if he could find any evidence of the Governor's men watching us, and if he could, to get some more food and ammo. He just got back a few minutes ago, and Carol's taking inventory. Daryl, Dad, Merle, and Glenn are going to try to fix the gates or move the bus to block them or something so we aren't quite so exposed." You'd made your way through the cells, and you were doing some tentative light knee bends as you walked, trying desperately to loosen up. 

When you came into the common room, you gave a low whistle. All the guns were laid out of one table, all the sharp or pointy weapons on another, and there were boxes of ammo on the third. Carol was making a list in a tattered notebook, carefully recording each item in her neat handwriting. Beth was nearby, and Lil Ass-kicker's bassinet (one of the laundry baskets stuffed with a blanket) was settled at her feet. 

"Oh, you're up," Carol turned to you with a smile. "We were given strict orders not to wake you; not that any of us needed to be told. How are you feeling?" 

You smiled back. "I'm good. Apparently I needed the sleep, though. Carl was catching me up. Seems everyone's been busy but me." 

"Well, we're doing what we can. Take your antibiotics and eat something before you go out there," she reminded you, with a nod to Carl. 

You sighed a little as Carl went and grabbed a bowl and spoon and brought it to you, putting it in your hands firmly. 

"I made oatmeal. It's not much, cause there wasn't really anything to put in it, but it's filling at least," Beth said. 

Damn it, now you had to eat. That girl was too damn sweet to disappoint. 

You started eating, and discovered that it didn't matter that plain oatmeal had the taste and consistency of glue; she was right, it was filling, and you were fuckin' starving. When you'd finished, you pulled the bottle of antibiotics from your pocket and took them under Carol's watchful eye. "Happy, mom?" you teased her, and she laughed. 

"Go on then, get out there. I know you want to," she said, jerking her head toward the door. 

"Yes, I do," you agreed, but you picked up your bowl and spoon and took them over to where Carol had set up a dish washing station with two gallon buckets, and scrubbed your dishes. You set them back with the others and grinned at Carol again. "But I was raised to clean up after myself!" 

Carol grinned back. You headed toward the door, Carl on your heels, and then turned to Beth. 

"Thanks, Beth," you told her, and watched her beam with joy.


	44. Did This Discussion Require a Weapons Discharge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

When you stepped out into the sun, you saw Merle and Michonne sitting in the courtyard. 

Well, Merle was sitting; Michonne was on the ground doing one legged planks with a push up, and wow did you feel unfit now. 

Oh well, you were too bruised to try anything like that anyway. You and Carl walked over in time to hear Merle start talking, as Michonne jumped to her feet and then dropped down to do something that made your abs burn in sympathetic agony. 

"You know, if we're goin' to live together and all, we should clear the air," Merle said, and you were pleased that it wasn't in his asshole voice, but the more reasonable tone you'd been hearing from him since you'd stopped the argument over whether or not he was coming back with you. "This whole huntin' you down thing? That was just business. Carryin' out orders." 

"Hmm," Michonne said, without looking at him. "Like the Gestapo." 

You snorted, and Merle glanced up at you. He cast an assessing look over you, but it was nothing like when he'd first kidnapped you in the pawn shop. He was checking your health this time, not checking you out, and you barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

Overprotective Merle was going to take some serious getting used to. 

"Yeah. Exactly," he said, turning back to Michonne. Apparently you'd been declared well enough to walk on your own. Yippee. "Done a lot of things I ain't proud of, both before and after. Anyway, I hope we can get past it." 

Michonne just gave him a look and kept doing the ab thing. Merle gave her his most charming grin, and then Daryl came around the corner. He smiled when he saw you, and you felt yourself grinning as well. 

"There ya are, woman," he teased, coming over and wrapping an arm around you. At the same time, he flicked the brim of Carl's hat, and you saw Carl beam up at him. "About time you got your lazy ass outta bed." 

You grinned back, pretending you didn't notice the way he searched your face closely as he spoke. 

"You like my ass just the way it is, Dixon," you teased back. 

"Hmmm," he said, blushing as he glanced down at Carl, who just grinned. 

You leaned in and kissed him soundly, loving the way he was so easily flustered sometimes and so very not at others. 

"Would you let that girlie get some air, little brother?" Merle called. "Don't you got somethin' to be doin' besides grossin' out the rest of us?" 

In tandem, you and Daryl flipped him off, and he chuckled. 

Daryl pulled away from you reluctantly after a second. "Actually, my idiot brother's right," he told you. "We're gonna try to get those gates blocked. Could use an extra set of hands and eyes. Walkers're a problem when we're tryin' to get stuff done." 

You nodded agreement and Daryl turned to Carl. 

"I came up here lookin' for you, kid. Head on up to the guard tower for us, will ya? We've got kinda an all-hands-on deck situation goin' on. We need some eyeballs up there keepin' sharp watch." 

Carl nodded. "The rifle still up there?" 

"Yeah, it's there," Daryl assured him. Carl shot you a grin and headed out, and you looked over at Merle and Michonne, then back at Daryl. You raised your eyebrow in wordless question. 

"Glenn don't want Merle down there, and Rick don't want him left unguarded." 

"So I've got me a babysitter," Merle put in, "As I sit on my lovely ass and watch the clouds." 

You heard the edge to his voice and sighed. "Merle, don't be an ass. You about killed Glenn, so leave it alone, ok?" 

"I don't blame the Chinese kid," Merle started, and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

"He's Korean," he snapped, starting out of the courtyard with your hand in his. 

"Whatever," Merle called after you. 

"Don't make me come back up here, Merle," you shot back at him. "And leave Samurai alone!" 

Michonne's laugh followed you down to the gate. 

 

"Hey there, sleepyhead!" Rick called up to you. 

"Cowboy! Heard you threatened to feed people to walkers if they woke me up. Don't think you can blame me for sleepin'!" you fired back as you got close. 

Glenn and Maggie laughed. "Girl's got a point, Rick," Maggie teased, then looked you over. "You look better, though."

"What is it with everyone? Jesus, how bad must I have been yesterday for one night's sleep to have made that much of a difference?" You regretted asking immediately at the looks on everyone's faces. 

"Oh. Ok, forget I said that," you backpedaled. "I'm fine; I feel great; the sleep did me good. Nobody get all serious. I can't handle it. It's over; I'm fine; can you please not treat me like a victim?" 

Glenn and Maggie looked guilty, but Rick met your eyes and nodded. "I think we can all do that. As long as you take your antibiotics, tell us if you can't do something, and eat when you're told. Deal?" 

You grinned at him. You had really, really missed your friend over the past week. "Deal. Now, what's happening on this gate?" 

Suddenly, Carl fired a shot from the guard tower. Just one.

Everyone ducked for cover and pulled up their weapons, looking around wildly. You were the first one to spot her, standing still outside the broken gates and holding the lead pole of a slumped-over walker. 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Apocalypse Barbie," you called, stepping out with your bow drawn and aimed. "You alone?" 

"Yes," she said shortly, dropping the lead pole and letting the walker crumple. "I'm here to talk." 

"Whatcha wanna talk to us about?" Daryl asked from next to you. "Don't you got new friends now?" 

You slipped to the side of her, leaving Daryl to take care of keeping her covered, and scanned the woods beyond the gate. You didn't see anyone, but then, you wouldn't if they were smart. You looked up at the guard tower, and could see the outline of Carl, panning the woods slowly with the rifle up and the scope against his eye. 

Good kid. 

Man, you wished you had the binoculars.

"Come on, Daryl, please?" Andrea was saying. "Can I just talk to everyone? Where's Rick?" 

"Hands up, turn around!" Rick snapped, coming out with his own gun trained on her. He pushed her to her knees to search her roughly, taking her gun and tucking it into his own belt. He yanked her pack off her back while she held her hands up and didn't protest, and tossed it to Maggie, who snatched it from the air. 

"Come on," he grunted to Andrea, pulling her to her feet and pushing her ahead of him. "Let's go, everyone." 

Glenn and Maggie fell into step behind them, and you and Daryl covered the rear, backing your way up the path to the inner gate. 

"Open up!" Rick called, and Merle and Michonne met your group at the gate. Merle covered everyone on one knee, eyes hard and movements professional as he scanned around you. Michonne slid the gate closed once everyone was in, and you caught a flash of Carl in the tower. You shot him a thumbs up, and he did the same, then went back to his job. 

Everyone watched Andrea with hard eyes, and you saw her looking around, bewildered at the less than enthusiastic greeting. Rick tugged at her arm, getting her back in motion.

"Welcome back," he said. "Let's go."


	45. Ding Dong, the Bitch Ain't Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mention of past rape/ non con  
> discussion of injuries from past rape/non con  
> cannon divergence

Rick led the way into the cell block, and everyone else followed. Merle was last, closing the gate with a bang. You glanced around, glad that Carol and Beth had gotten your arsenal put away already. 

No need to give away trade secrets.

Carol stepped into the room and Andrea walked to her, arms outstretched for a silent hug. Your group dispersed, taking up different corners of the room. Michonne went to one, Merle another. Maggie and Glenn moved off together to the cell block door, pulling it closed and leaning on either side of the opening. You and Daryl stayed by the door as Rick stood, hands on his hips, next to Hershel in the center of the room. 

"We thought you were dead," Carol told Andrea. 

Andrea looked around, eyes wide. "Hershel, oh my God! I can't believe this," she whispered. Then she turned. "Where's Shane? And Lori?" 

"Shane's dead. I put a bolt in his skull when he attacked YN," Daryl said from where he leaned on the railing beside you. 

Andrea gasped, but she didn't even look at you. "Lori?" she asked again, turning to Rick. Rick simply stared, and you saw some of the guilt-driven grief moving in his eyes. He said nothing, and you prayed he'd hold it together. You didn't have it in you to pull your friend back from the edge again.

"She had a girl," Hershel intervened, and the look faded from Rick's eyes. "Lori didn't survive." 

"Neither did T Dog," Maggie said. You could hear the anger she barely held in check, and God knows you didn't blame her. 

Hell, you were proud of all of them. You'd been afraid they'd welcome her back with open arms. This sharp suspicion was a welcome relief.

"Shane told us you jumped out of the truck on the farm and went after Rick and Carl, and you went down there." Glenn's voice held the question that you knew you'd all been wondering. 

Andrea nodded. "I did. It was stupid. It was clearer on my side. I thought I could get to them and get them back to the truck before the herd closed in on me. I was wrong, and Shane had to go. I don't blame him for thinking I didn't make it. I almost didn't. Michonne saved me in the woods." Andrea looked over at Samurai and smiled, but she didn't smile back. 

"Rick, I- I'm so sorry," Barbie said, trying to get Rick to engage with her. He just looked away, so she glanced at everyone's faces and tried again. 

"You all live here?" she asked, her gaze sliding over you, and you found yourself grinning. 

Still a bitch then; and even better, a bitch with a grudge. Those were the best kind. They were easy to manipulate.

"Here and in the cell block," Glenn answered. 

Andrea pointed to the door. "Here? Can I go in?" She started over, but Rick shifted to block her way even as Maggie stepped in front of the door. 

"I won't allow that," Rick said mildly, and Barbie huffed. 

"I'm not the enemy, Rick," she said. 

"We had that whole field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up," Rick snarled. 

You shifted away from the door and went to sit down, guessing that this was going to take awhile. Daryl came and hopped on the table beside you again, one leg swinging in a pose that looked casual. You'd have bet good money it wasn't. You rested your elbows on the tabletop and stretched out your legs. She was alone, and in a room with these people? Well, you'd never felt safer.

Which was good, because it gave you time to think. And observe. 

You'd chosen the table halfway between Merle and Michonne, so they were both to either side of you. That way you could get to either of them before they did something stupid, since you thought they were the most likely to choose to do something stupid. Michonne seemed pissed at Andrea, but the Samurai had said herself that they were friends. Friends did dumb things when their friends were threatened. 

Exhibit A: you. 

Merle was just a hothead, and you were always planning on him doing something stupid.

Andrea was staring at Rick. "He said you fired first." 

Oh, not even gonna deny the boyfriend thing! 

Man, she was gonna really hate you real soon.

You knew these people. You loved these people. None of these people could keep their mouths shut when someone they cared about had been hurt. Somebody was going to tell her what the Governor had done to you. 

Your bet was Glenn. You chose not to wonder what this line of thought said about your psyche. 

Daryl leaned over and whispered to you. "She didn't even deny she's sleepin' with him." 

"Yeah," you whispered back. "She's seriously gonna hate me by the time she leaves here. Not that she doesn't already." 

"Whatcha mean?" he asked, and you smiled at how clueless men could be to the way some women were with other women. 

"She was after you or Shane from the start, Dixon. I got you, Shane attacked me, everyone believed me over her; she lost out on both of you. She wanted power; Rick gave it to me. Hell, even Shane trusted me more with the group's safety and leadership than he did her. Now, Shane's dead because of me- to her mind- and I'm gonna have to tell her what her new boyfriend is really like. She's gonna blame me for it, because that's how some women are, but holy hell does the girl have some bad taste in men." 

"She ain't gonna blame you for nothin' in front of me," he snarled, and you leaned into his knee. He threaded his fingers through your hair and you tuned back into the Barbie/Cowboy showdown. 

"He killed an inmate who survived in here," Rick was saying. 

"We liked him. He was one of us," Daryl spoke up. 

"I didn't know anything about that," Andrea said, looking over at Daryl. Her eyes flicked to his fingers in your hair and then she turned away. "I didn't even know you where in Woodbury until the shoot out!" she said, turning to look at Maggie and Glenn. 

You snorted. Daryl stiffened beside you, and Rick laughed. It wasn't a friendly laugh. 

"That was days ago," Glenn said. "And YN was there too." 

Apparently everyone had their White Knight hats on these days when it came to you. 

That was really going to piss Andrea off. 

"I told you, I came as soon as I could!" she snapped, still not looking at you. She turned around, meeting a bunch of unfriendly expressions, and whirled. 

You felt Michonne move up to your shoulder. 

"What have you told them?" Barbie snapped at her. 

Michonne shrugged. "Nothing." Even her face was expressionless as she crossed her arms.

"I don't get it." Barbie looked around again. "I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?" 

"He almost killed Michonne." Glenn's voice was quiet, but pissed. "And he would have killed us." 

"With his finger on the trigger!" Andrea cried, pointing to Merle. 

Merle just started laughing. "So, it bothers you when ol' Merle has a better position than you, don't it, blondie? You've always been a power hungry thing. Guess you've got it where you are now, but you still want it here as well." He shook his head, that asshole smile firmly in place. "But see, that's the thing, darlin'. It don't come free here like it does there. I got little brother and his woman outta there. And I ain't sleepin' with the enemy. That mean I've proved myself, enough for them to let me back in, at least." 

"Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?" Andrea ignored Merle like she ignored you, and Glenn looked beyond her to hold Merle's eyes. 

"Yeah," he said quietly. "He is. But he's also the one who tried to help us escape, who gave YN a shirt after your boyfriend raped her and made her and Maggie walk around half-naked. He's also the one who had our backs when your boyfriend attacked us!"

Oh look, you'd have won that bet. 

"Goddamn it, Glenn, you really need to learn to keep your mouth shut about my business," you said, but there was no heat behind your words. He was angry for you, for Maggie. They all were. 

Andrea hadn't turned to look at you, and you weren't surprised. She looked at Rick instead. "First she says Shane attacked her, and now she says Philip did? And you believe her?" 

Who the hell was Philip? 

You glanced around at your friends and saw pissed off expressions all around. Maggie looked like she was ready to shoot Barbie where she stood, and the muscles of Glenn's jaw were twitching. He kept looking from you to Andrea and back like he couldn't believe she wouldn't even glance your way. 

"Who the hell is Philip?" Rick echoed your thoughts. "And yeah, I do." 

"Why?" Andrea snapped, and Daryl exploded to his feet. You grabbed at his arm to hold him back, but Merle spoke up. 

"Just let him go, little sister; you ain't gonna hold him back for long." Merle's voice had an edge you'd never heard before, not even when he was threatening to blow out your kneecap and feed you to the walkers. 

Goddamn, Merle was pissed. A glance at him showed that him holding himself with that forced stillness you recognized from Daryl. 

Shit. 

You had to admit, for all he said he'd never lay a hand on a woman without her permission, you'd not expected this level of protectiveness and anger from him. Maybe the Dixon brothers weren't as different as everyone wanted to believe. 

Maybe you needed to have another chat with Merle, see how much else of that arrogant asshole was just a disguise to keep people at arm's length. 

Andrea whirled around at Merle's words, and saw Daryl standing slightly in front of you. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at his face. 

Ok, your turn. Time to do something before one of these boys killed her for saying something bitchy. 

You stood up slowly, and she finally, finally looked at you. 

"Barbie," you said quietly, putting your hand on Daryl's arm. "Do you practice bein' a bitch, or does it just come naturally?"

Well, hell, that wasn't what you'd planned to say. Apparently you were a little pissed too. 

She flushed angrily. "Am I just supposed to take your word for everything? How do I know you're not just the kind who thinks every man in the world wants you?" 

Daryl started to move and you heard Merle snarl behind you, but you just had to laugh at that. Everyone was looking at you, and Daryl turned to catch your elbow as you bent half over you were laughing so hard, clutching your ribs as every laugh caused you pain.

She literally could not have failed to insult you more. 

You knew better than anyone that being 'wanted' like that was all about power, not about desire. Besides, you'd been told enough times no one cared about you to still be surprised when that turned up wrong. 

"God, that hurts!" you gasped when you could catch your breath. "Oh, Andrea, honey. I don't think any man wants me, ever. Most of the time, I don't even believe Daryl does, and he proves me wrong every day! Someone made sure I'd know better than that a long time ago. But if you need proof-" 

You turned to Glenn. "Hey Speed Racer, you got a thing for me?" 

Glenn's lips twitched, despite himself, and Maggie was grinning openly. "Sorry, YN. You're not my type," he said. 

"How about you, Cowboy?" you asked Rick. Rick just rolled his eyes at you. 

"Fine!" Andrea snapped. "But you can't expect me to just believe your word." 

"No, you're right, I can't expect that. After all, last time I marched the man who attacked me in at arrow point and you didn't believe me then. Now, I could expect you to believe Maggie, who watched it happen," you continued, your voice going hard as you took a step toward her. "But I don't suppose I do expect that, either, and I don't really want her to have to listen to you question her word. Not when I can prove it damn easily."

"Oh, she can insult me all she likes, YN. It won't make a difference to anyone with a spine," Maggie put in. 

You smiled at her and reached down to unbuckle your gun belt. Suddenly, Daryl's hands were on yours. "Don't," he said in your ear. "She ain't worth it." 

Andrea flinched a little at his words. You turned to him with a smile. 

"It's ok. It's the fastest way to shut her up," you said, handing him the belt. 

You lifted your shirt and turned slowly in front of her, giving her a good long look at the bruises that were still shaped like hand prints on your back and sides and the line of lurid bruising across your stomach from the table's edge. You stopped with your back to her, looking into Daryl's face. You were taking deep, careful breaths, keeping the rising tide of panic at being exposed at bay by sheer force of will. And knowing that Daryl had your back. 

You heard Andrea draw in a shocked breath. Then Daryl's eyes hardened as he looked behind you. 

"Don't fuckin' touch her," he snarled. In an instant, you'd dropped your shirt and spun, backing away from her so fast you bumped into Daryl. You sucked in another breath, your eyes darting around the room quickly before settling back on her.

Damn it. You regretted it immediately, cursing it for a sign of weakness you hadn't meant to give her. She stood frozen, one hand outstretched like she'd been reaching out to you. She looked troubled as Daryl handed you your gun belt and you slipped it back on. Andrea stared at you for another moment before turning back to the group. 

"I didn't know about that either," she said quietly. "Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am here trying to bring us together." 

Oh, nice. Skip right over apologizing to the victim and keep playing the ignorant peace maker, avoiding blame but also avoiding admitting you told the truth. That'll work, you thought as the group shifted and glared at her.

"There ain't no together," Daryl growled, and you leaned back into the gentle pressure of his hand on your lower back. 

"We have to work this out!" Andrea cried. 

Rick shook his head, moving toward her. "There's nothing to work out. We're gonna kill him. Probably Daryl, though he may leave this one to YN. I don't know how or when, but we will." 

"We can settle this," she insisted. "There is room at Woodbury for all of you!" 

Merle chuckled. "You know better than that. And you don't know any of the people in this room as well as you think if you're thinkin' they'd let him live. I know I won't." 

"What makes you think this man wants to negotiate?" Hershel cut in. "Did he say that?" 

"No," she admitted. 

"Then why did you come here?" Rick's words were an explosion in the quiet room, and behind the cell doors, Judith set up a small cry, quickly quieted by Beth. 

"Because he's gearing up for war! The people see you as killers. They're training to attack!" Andrea yelled back to Rick, but she shot quick glances at the cell block door, like she was looking for the baby. 

"I'll tell you what," Daryl drawled slowly. "Next time you see Philip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye. And then he and I'll have some fun." 

Andrea scoffed. "Rick, come on. Look at you! You can't make it alone anymore." 

"You want to make this right? Get us inside," Rick said with a shrug. 

"I can't do that," she said with a shake of her head. 

"Then we've got nothing to talk about." Rick stormed into the cell block, and Andrea stared after him. 

"I'll see you out," Michonne said, and Andrea walked to the door, shaking her head. 

"You're all idiots," she said. "He'll win."


	46. Healing Makes You Itch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of rape/non con  
> discussion of psychological effects from rape/non con  
> discussion of past abuse

Rick gave her a car and sent her back to Woodbury. Carol let her hold the baby, and suggested she kill the Governor in his sleep and save you all some trouble. 

You were damned impressed; you'd never have guessed Carol could be so savage. 

Then it was back to the business of living. You needed food, you needed guns, you needed the gates to be repaired. So that's where you focused. 

You were sitting in the sunlight, perched on the overturned bus, with your rifle in your hand and your bow on your back. You were currently watching Daryl and Rick wrestling the bent gate back upright. They had somehow- and you still weren't clear on the particulars and frankly didn't need to be- gotten the worst of the bends and twists out of it, and now they were just trying to get it back standing, so they could reattach the thing. 

You and Carl were there as walker protection. Mostly the two of you were just sitting around and making snide comments, though, because you had pulled some of your cars up to block off the open entrance, and that served enough protection from walkers to get most things done with no fuss. 

So here you were, enjoying the sunlight with your three favorite people in the world. It was almost a vacation. 

Especially since both of the men were shirtless, and Daryl had his crossbow slung back over his bare back. You were definitely enjoying watching him work. 

It had been about a week since you'd gotten back from Woodbury. Even the worst of your bruises were starting to heal up, but you still had stitches, and Daryl was treating you so cautiously that sometimes you felt like screaming. 

Then, of course, you'd have a nightmare and wake up actually screaming, and you'd be reminded of why he was so careful with you all the time. 

You knew it wasn't something that would just go away, even once your body healed. At the same time, you'd done all this before. You knew yourself well enough to know what you were fine with and what you weren't. Now if you could just get him to understand that you weren't fragile, and you knew your own mind. 

And right now, you were very fine with watching him as he wrestled the gate upright. 

"Stop starin' at my ass, woman," he called to you. Rick, heaving at the gate beside him, gave a short strained laugh. Carl made a face beside you. 

"But it's such a nice ass, Dixon," you called back.

"Maybe," he answered, the two of them giving one more heave and then stepping back to admire their handiwork. "But you're supposed to be on the lookout for walkers lookin' to take a bite out of it, not just starin' at it." 

"Hmmm," you considered. He turned and stalked toward you, and you watched that too. "I suppose that's true. Luckily, Carl here isn't distracted by your ass, so he's still watching for walkers. So we're good," you finished, looking down at him now. 

Carl snorted and Daryl grinned up at you both. 

"Well, at least make yourself useful and drop me those water bottles you got up there, then," he demanded, and you did. He tossed one over to Rick, who had wandered over to lean against the base of the bus under you and Carl as well, taking advantage of the pitiful patch of shadow the bus cast. 

Then you got to watch Daryl take a long, slow drink, staring you down as you did so. 

"Jesus, you two," Rick muttered. "That's my boy you're having eye sex in front of. You should be ashamed of yourselves." 

You grinned at him. "Nah. Eye sex is all I'm gettin' at the moment. I ain't ashamed of nothing." 

Daryl choked on his water and you flashed him a wicked grin. He looked like he wanted to say something that would ruin the teasing mood, and you were grateful when Carl interrupted. 

"This is all very educational, but maybe we should do something about those two walkers," the kid said mildly. You glanced at him and noticed he was bright red, and you felt a little bad about joking so openly with Rick and Daryl. He was just a kid, still, though you sometimes forgot about that. Then you looked to the walkers he was talking about. 

"I got them," you and Daryl said in unison, and that was it. You were racing. You dropped your gun and swung your bow around, whipping an arrow from your quiver as Daryl did the same. He set the tip of his crossbow on the ground and yanked back the string, setting it with ease (ugh, the man had arms, damn it) and then was raising it to his shoulder. You were taking sight, aiming at the first walker, and you fired practically in unison. 

Both walkers hit the ground, arrows between their eyes. 

Rick and Carl laughed as you and Daryl scowled at each other. "Tie!" Rick declared. "And have no one but yourselves to blame for not having another target!" 

You shaded your eyes and looked out at the woods. "Maybe we can find a tie breaker on our run tomorrow, Dixon." 

Daryl glanced up at you. "You sure you're goin'?"

You snorted. "Not this again, please. You've kept me cooped up here long enough, Dixon. Don't treat me like a victim," you warned. 

"Damn it, woman," he growled. 

"Damn it, Dixon," you growled right back. 

"Shut up, both of you," Rick put in. "We need the supplies. Michonne, Carl, and I are heading out tomorrow too. We're going back to my hometown. The benefits of knowing where every registered gun owner resides; you know where every gun is hiding." 

"Wait, so I can come?" Carl called down to his dad, and you felt yourself smiling. 

"Yes, you can come," Rick said. "I'll need your help. But we've gotta move fast. Taking five of our fighters away at once is risky." 

You'd discussed this to death the day before, but you humored Rick by running it again now. "But if we go one at a time, we risk him having more time to guess where we're goin' and follow us. Plus, we just drag out the way our numbers get weakened, and there's a greater chance someone will notice. If we go all at once and move fast, it should be fine. It's the right plan, Rick," you reassured him. 

"Especially if we get this gate back in place," Daryl added. "Come on, let's finish up so we can get outta this damn sun." 

"Aww," you pouted. "But that would be such a shame." 

"Shut up, woman," he said exasperatedly, but his grin as he looked over his shoulder at you was as wicked as yours. 

 

A few hours later, you were back in your cell. Hershel tapped on the wall outside and you jumped up to pull back the curtain and let him in. 

"Hey, Doc, right on time," you said cheerfully. 

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Hershel said in his slow serious drawl. "I'm not a doctor, you know. Most of the time, I'm not doing more than guessing what should be done." 

"I know," you told him with a smile. "But your guesses are far more educated than the rest of us. And 'hey, vet' just doesn't sound as good!" 

You got a grin and a laugh out of him before he sobered up. He sat down in the chair you pulled over to the edge of the cot, leaning his crutches against the wall. 

"Alright then, missy, let's have a look at you then," he said quietly. You nodded and sat down in front of him, shrugging out of the flannel Daryl had given you when you got back from Woodbury. You grabbed the hem of your tank and took a deep breath. Hershel regarded you steadily for a moment, then glanced away, giving you the space you needed. 

"Want to talk about that any?" he asked as you rapidly pulled the tank over your head. He looked back to you, and you shook your head. He leaned forward and unwrapped the ace bandage around your ribs, probing gently with his cool fingers. 

"It's not a big deal," you said with a shrug. "I'm fine now, for example. It's just- I get a twinge. His voice, when he told me to take my shirt off. It just gives me a moment, that's all." 

"Does it happen any time you're changing clothes?" he asked quietly. "If you're alone or if, say, Daryl is there?" 

You hesitated. "Even when I'm alone. Daryl doesn't- Daryl leaves when I need to change. He's good at that. Giving space." You knew you sounded bitter on the last word.

Hershel sat back and gestured for you to lay down. "The rib is doing fine," he told you as he began pressing gently on your stomach, around the line of now mostly healed bruising. "It's not healed yet, not completely, but I'm going to leave it unwrapped. Why does it bother you that he's giving you space? What happened to you isn't something to take lightly, YN, for all that you act like it didn't even phase you. That kind of reaction to similar actions is normal, and healthy. It's only been a week." 

You sighed. You knew he was right, and Lord knew the old man was good at subtly checking in on your psychological state during your fairly frequent exams. You were beginning to think he was using your physical injuries to set up regular therapy sessions. But damn it, you hated being treated like this. 

"When my ex first- I went to the cops when my ex first started abusing me," you told Hershel quietly. "The first time he pinned me down and forced things, I went to the police the next morning. They told me there was nothing they could do; said it was just rough sex and I needed to communicate to him what I wanted and didn't want. I believed them, and I believed him about it too, when he said the same thing. But I still had friends at the time. They knew better, and they were trying to help me. I know that," you told Hershel seriously. You gestured with one hand, trying to convey without words what you almost didn't grasp.

"I know they were, but- they treated me like a victim. With so much care and caution. It drove me crazy, especially with him telling me they were wrong. I didn't know who to believe, and I've always hated feelin' helpless. I was halfway to driving them away myself before he even started his isolation campaign. Being treated like that; like I'm some fragile flower that could be crushed with a wrong look? It puts me back there, in that 'victim' state of mind. I can't stand it." You blew out a long breath and looked up at Hershel, who hadn't said a word. He wasn't even pretending to examine you anymore; he was just listening. 

"You're a sneaky son a bitch, Mr. Greene," you told him, and that got you a smile. 

"I can be," he said simply. "When I think somebody needs it. You see everything that goes on with the others and take care of them, but you hate it when someone takes care of you. I get that." 

"So you manipulate me into letting you take care of me. You're good, Doc," you said with a cheerful grin. "What wisdom are you goin' to impart to me about my attitude?" 

"No real wisdom," he said slowly. "Just the thoughts of an old man who dealt with his own trauma. You aren't a victim. You know that, and that's a good sign. But that doesn't mean you don't need care. Try to let us care for you, as much as you can. Especially Daryl. Don't let him make you feel broken, but let him care for you. He needs it as much as you do. He was like a wild thing, when Michonne told us you were taken. And when he carried you in here- I've never seen a man look more like his heart was breaking. He needs to care for you, to work through his own guilt and fear. Talk to him when he crosses that line, when he starts to make you feel like a victim, and tell him why. Be open and honest, and the two of you will be just fine." 

You touched his hand. "That's some damn good advice, Doc. I'll do my best to follow it." 

He patted your hand with his. "That's all I can ask. Now. I need to check your stitches. Are you up for it?" 

You smiled. "Sure thing." 

He was fast and efficient, and said you were healing nicely. You swung up to a sitting position, blanket still draped over your lap. 

"Hey, Doc?" you asked as he reached for his crutches. 

"Yes?" 

"I've got a question." You hesitated a little, feeling the blush rise up. Hershel waited patiently. "So. I was wondering. How long- uh, how long should we wait before...." 

Oh God this was rough. This was worse than the exam. 

You looked everywhere, anywhere, but at Hershel. 

"Well," he said quietly. "I'm not an expert, by any means. I'd say, though, that physically- you should give it at least another week. Psychologically, well, that's up to you two. But again, go slowly. And carefully." 

You nodded gratefully, still not looking him in the eyes. "Thanks, Doc," you mumbled. He nodded and ducked out of that cell, and you let out a huge sigh. 

Thank God that was over.


	47. Normal Never Worked for You Anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> discussion of past rape/non con  
> discussion of psychological trauma

You were up in the guard tower in the predawn light, waiting for the prison to stir. You and Daryl and Rick, Carl, and Michonne would all be heading out soon. For all your confidence in the plan, and your desperate need to get out from behind these walls, you were worried. 

You understood why Rick was anxious about the people at home. Even with Glenn, Maggie, and Merle remaining behind, you didn't know if there would be enough people around to mount a good defense. Especially with the way someone always had to be watching out for the baby. 

There were light, brisk footsteps on the stairs, and then the door behind you opened. 

"Good morning, YN," Carol said pleasantly as she walked to your side. You turned and studied her with a smile. 

She'd found that steel at her core that you'd glimpsed immediately when you'd first met. It had taken awhile, but it started somewhere out on the road over the winter. She'd become a solid shot with both the rifle and the handgun, and had a knack for making your meager supplies stretch further than you'd ever thought they could. Ever since you'd gotten back from Woodbury, there'd been something even harder in her, as well. 

Something had happened when T Dog had died and before Daryl had found her. She'd handled herself; she'd survived, on her own, and you had been happy to see the way that made her confidence blossom. You felt like you were literally watching her discover who she would have been without Ed, her dead husband. 

The two of you had talked some over the winter, enough to know the basics of each other's stories. Enough to make you damn proud of the woman who leaned against the railing, turning her back to the world outside as she smiled at you. 

"Good morning," you returned her greeting. "You my relief?" 

"Yes ma'am," she said. "But I'm in no hurry. It sure is going to be a beautiful morning," she sighed, looking out at the sky where the rising sun was painting it a riot of colors. "You should take a look. We don't stop to admire the sunrise enough these days." 

You chuckled. "Tellin' me I'm living too fast? Need to stop and smell the roses?" 

She shook her head at you. "I'm telling you not to rush things. I know you're desperate to having everything be ok. But remember to take your time." 

You laughed out loud. "Have you been talkin' to Hershel?" 

"No," she said easily, taking the rifle from you. You passed it over and she gave you that amused-concern look. "We're all just worried about you. This week has been a much needed rest, but he's still out there. One visit from Andrea doesn't mean its over. I doubt she took my advice and killed him in his sleep. So, we need you as ok as you can be. And that includes that clever mind of yours." 

You heard the soft scrape of the door behind you and glanced at Michonne. She'd been utterly silent coming up the steps, and you were impressed, as you had been continually by her since you met. 

"Carol's right," she said, leaning against the glass of the guard tower. "He's coming. Andrea wouldn't have the guts to kill him. Certainly not like that." 

You snorted. "Yeah, Barbie's not exactly doing so great with the decision making. She's too interested in power and in hating me to actually see the world the way it is." 

Carol laughed and Michonne grinned. 

"She definitely didn't like you much either," Carol said with a grin. "She hated your confidence, and the way our leaders accepted you and relied on you almost immediately." 

"Oh, she didn't dislike you," Michonne cut in, and you looked at her and raised one eyebrow. 

Yeah, sure, you believed that. 

"She hated you," Michonne finished, and you burst out laughing. 

"Yeah? She talk about me over the winter?" you asked, genuinely curious. Michonne didn't talk about her life before joining you very often, and you were interested in a glimpse of what it had been like with Andrea. 

"All the time," Michonne agreed. "I could not get her to shut up about your group for a long while. She seemed like she hated everyone, but there was real worry under there for most of you. Not you, though, YN. You she just hated." 

You were grinning, not in the least offended. "I'll bet. I still don't know what I did to her, except, you know, exist." 

Michonne regarded you seriously. "She was jealous. It was in her voice all the time. It wasn't about the men, not really, though she did try to paint you as a big old hoe." 

You and Carol both chuckled at that. 

"It was your strength. The power, too; you've got her pegged there. Oh how that woman loves to be calling the shots. But mostly, she saw that strength in you and she hated it. She hated me a little bit too, even though I saved her. Because I saved her." Michonne sounded sad, and you felt bad for her. Andrea had been her friend, until she wasn't. And it always hurt to know how people you'd seen as friends really felt about you. 

"I'm sorry," you offered. Michonne just shrugged. 

"She made her choices. Anyway, Daryl and Rick sent me to get you. They want you to come inside. Some sort of group meeting," she said, gesturing back toward the cell block. 

"Go on, get out of here you two. Leave me in peace," Carol teased. "Be safe though. Hurry back to us." 

You patted her arm and headed down with Michonne. "How do you feel about going with Rick?" you asked her. 

She blew out a huff of air. "I'm being tested. He doesn't trust me yet. Neither does Carl. I guess we'll see if I prove myself." 

You gave her a sympathetic look. "Rick's a good man. He knows you helped him, and us. He's just slow to trust anyone." 

Michonne nodded. "I don't mind. He's done alright for me as it is. Trusts me around his children, and that's a big thing. I'll have him confident in me by the time we get back. It's Carl I'm worried about. I'd like to have his trust." 

You smiled at her, genuinely pleased to hear that. "Grimes is a great kid. He's even harder to get on your side than Rick is, but once he's there, he'll never turn back. He's worth the effort to get to know as well. He's just a good, fascinating person." 

Michonne was grinning back at you as you reached the door to the cell block. "You love him. It shows. And he loves you just as much." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Like I said, he's worth it." Then you were ducking inside and the boy himself was grinning at you and waving you over to where he sat with Daryl and Rick. 

"Hey kiddo. Cowboy. Mornin', Dixon. Nice to see you awake," you teased. "Last I saw you, you were face down in my pillow and snorin'." 

Daryl scowled at you and rolled his eyes while Rick and Carl grinned. 

"We ready to roll out?" you asked them, running your hand over Daryl's arm. 

"Did you eat anything?" Rick asked pointedly. 

You rolled your eyes, and Rick's bowl slid to a stop in front of you, half full of- oh joy- oatmeal. Carl laughed at your expression and you dutifully picked up Rick's spoon with a sigh. 

"Alright, everybody," Rick said loudly, climbing to his feet. Conversations stopped and everyone looked up at him. "The five of us are headin' out soon. Daryl and YN are looking for food, in that little town about eight miles out. Michonne, Carl, and I are heading back to King County for more guns and ammo. Glenn and Maggie are in charge while we're gone. If we're not back by dark, you know what to do." Rick met Glenn's eye and held it for a long moment. "Do it. If we get taken, you guys have to get out of here. I'm trusting you with my baby," he said softly, and Glenn nodded. 

"Alright. Carl, Michonne, let's head out. Daryl, YN- be safe out there." Rick's hand landed on your shoulder as he went toward the door. Michonne gave you a smile and followed him. 

You held your arm out to Carl and he slid in to give you a hug. "Be careful, Grimes," you told him quietly, and he nodded. 

 

You and Daryl set out a only a few minutes behind them. You left your bow and quiver in favor of the big, empty backpack so you could bring back as many supplies as possible on Daryl's bike. 

You were clinging to him, feeling that incredible rush that came with the wind whipping through your hair and the roar of the engine. Daryl had his crossbow on his back, but you were pressed tightly against him anyway. 

Why waste the opportunity? 

It didn't take anywhere near long enough to reach your destination. Daryl stopped the bike and the silence rushed back in, just birds and insects and the two of you. 

You tried not to be, but you were tensed up, remembering what had happened the last time you were out on a run in the silence. Luckily, this time you knew where Merle fucking Dixon was. 

And wasn't it just like you to cover real fear with a joke, even in the privacy of your own mind. 

You and Daryl were a seamless team, moving back to back as you went down the street to your destination, a little mom and pop grocery store spot you'd found in Maggie and Glenn's phone book. Daryl rattled the doors hard, and then you waited. 

Sure enough, about a minute later, the silence was broken by the snarls and moans of the undead, trying to get out of the closed door to the two of you. 

"Four of 'em," Daryl whispered. 

You nodded, tucked your gun away and pulled out your knife. "Ready," you breathed back. 

He held up three fingers, two, then one, and opened one door. The first walker through went down to his knife, then the second tripped over the first and he fell back rapidly as it came for him. He dropped to one knee and jammed his knife in its skull, but then your attention was focused on the walkers as the press of bodies opened the other door and four more of them spilled out. 

"Thought you said four!" you called to Daryl, ducking under the arms of one and thrusting your knife up under its chin. You spun gracefully and the machete in your other hand cut deep into the forehead of the another walker as you extended your arm in a pretty backward strike. 

"Well, gee, sorry I couldn't make out the other two through the dirty glass!" he snapped back as he pulled a walker of his own close and stabbed through its temple. 

"God, these guys are disgusting," you said, wrinkling your nose as you kept your third one at arms length. 

"Would you stop playin' with that guy?" Daryl snapped as he dropped the last one, flinging it away from him. "We've got work to do, woman." 

You shrugged and let go of the walker, and it walked right into the knife you had level with its eyeball. You kicked it backward with a grimace at the squelch as it slid back off your blade. "All work and no play makes Daryl a grumpy boy," you said as you stepped back to his side. 

His lips twitched as he pulled his crossbow into his arms, covering you as you ducked into the store behind him. "Shut up, woman." 

"Make me, Dixon," you muttered back, your eyes moving through the semi-gloom, looking for walkers and taking in the state of the place. You were in luck. The shelves were covered in dust and grime, but pristine. 

"Doesn't look like anybody's been here since the outbreak started," Daryl said, slinging his bow onto his back as he dubbed the place clear. You shoved the machete back through your belt, but kept your knife at the ready. You shrugged out of the straps of the backpack, passing it to Daryl as both of you moved further into the store. 

"Yeah, this was a good call. Most of the big chain stores would have been wiped out pretty fast. Hell, I cleared out most of the trail food from the place I got my bow on day one. It's places like these that will be left; the ones people forget exist. But we're gonna have to think about sustainability soon. It won't be too long before the canned food runs out all over and we're gonna want to be growin' our own before that happens," you said seriously. 

He smiled over at you as you passed him cans, finally sheathing you knife so you could use both hands. "You thinkin' about the future a lot, woman?" 

You shrugged a little. "Yeah. Someone has to, even now. We've got us a farmer and a field. Might as well be thinkin' about planting. Once we get the- the Governor taken care of, we can find some seed." You hitched a little over his name again, and Daryl's eyes darkened. 

He rose from where he'd been crouched, filling the bag with the cans you passed, and took a step to you. "Hey." 

You stared at your hands for a moment before looking up at him. "I'm ok, Dixon." 

"I know," he said seriously. "I do. You're the toughest person I've ever seen. I'm the one who's not ok most of the time." 

You stared at him as he shoved his hands through his hair. "I ain't gonna make it all about me. I won't be that person. But damn, you need to let me take care of ya a little. I couldn't- I know I can't protect you all the time. And I swear, I wouldn't want to. Runnin' with you like this; it's who you are. Who we are. I wouldn't make you lose that even if it would keep you safe from everything." He started pacing and you just watched him. "But every time I think about- every time I see those damn bruises, or you tease me about havin' sex, or we're just layin' there or I'm talkin' to Rick, and out of nowhere, it hits me all over again. I could have lost you. I didn't, and I know it, but damn, woman. I was so damn scared." 

You touched his arm and he stopped pacing, but he wouldn't look at you. 

"Merle says I'm bein' an idiot. That I'm treatin' you like a victim, and its gonna drive you away. I don't mean to," his voice dropped. "I just don't ever want you hurt. And I couldn't- I couldn't live with myself if I was the one who hurt you, by movin' too fast or bein' too careless." 

You wrapped your arms around him tightly then, and he held on, laying his cheek on the top of your head. "I know, Dixon," you said softly. "I know. I'm sorry." 

"Don't you dare," he snarled, but you cut in. 

"I'm sorry for how I act when you try to take care of me. I know it's because you care, and not because you don't believe in me. And if I didn't know, Hershel sure put me in my place yesterday," you said with a small laugh. "I swear, he's taken it upon himself to be my shrink. He's not half bad, either." 

You sighed a little, and he automatically started to rub your back. "I hate being treated like I'm broken. My friends did, way back in the day when I still had friends, but my ex always told me that was an insult, that they were just proving that they thought I was weak. It became a huge part of how he isolated me. Now, I react to any sign of people taking care of me as an insult. I know that I do, so I try to compensate for it, but...." You trailed off with a shrug. 

"I get that," he said quietly. "My dad use to say I wasn't good for anything. That I wasn't good at anything, and I'd never make it without him. I don't like bein' taken of either. Never thought of it that way, for you, but I see it. Number of times you tell me not to treat you like a victim, I should have put that together sooner." 

You tipped your head up and kissed his jaw. "Daryl Dixon, I love the hell out of you. I promise to let you fuss more without snapping, as long as I can tell you when you need to back off and you'll listen." 

He held you a little tighter, looking down at you with a soft smile. "I can do that. I love the hell out of you, too, woman." 

You smiled back at him, and he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was harder and hungrier than any he'd allowed between you since you came back, and you let out a tiny, needy noise against his lips. Your arms wrapped up around his neck and you pressed into him, kissing back with all the pent-up frustration you'd been feeling. 

He growled a little and backed you up, pressing you into the end of one of the shelving units, his hands sliding down your sides and gripping your hips. He tugged your hips a little, pulling you closer, and you broke the kiss off sharply. He looked at you, eyes wild and hungry, and you dropped your head to his shoulder with a groan. 

"Goddamn it," you muttered. "Hershel said we need to give it another week." 

Daryl laughed that open laugh, your laugh. "You asked Hershel when we could have sex again?" 

You shrugged. "I've got stitches," you said simply, and he jerked a little. 

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," his voice sounded strange for a moment, but then the teasing edge was back. "Though I don't know what the hell he knows about it; he's a damn cow doctor." 

You giggled against his shoulder. "Yeah, that's basically what he said to. It was just a guess, but it's a more educated guess than any of the rest of us. Guess we should follow his advice." 

Daryl grumbled into your hair, but let you push him back. He grabbed your hand as you started to walk away, though, and you looked back at him. He looked rumpled and irritated, and you couldn't help smiling. 

"Don't ever think I don't want ya, woman," he said quietly, and you stepped back to him to kiss him gently. 

"I won't," you whispered. "Now come on, Dixon. Let's finish up here before we get interrupted. We got a deadline." 

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, following you back to the shelves. 

 

The motorcycle was thrumming under you once again as you took a winding path back toward home. You slid your hands up under Daryl's mutilated flannel shirt to press them against his bare chest, and you felt his chuckle instead of hearing it. You let your head rest on his back with a sigh, and he took one hand off the bars and ran his fingers over your arm. 

It was so damn peaceful, and you could almost believe that the world was whole again, and you were just on a Sunday drive with your man. Then Daryl shifted to look over his shoulder and his crossbow smacked you in the nose. 

Well, never mind the idea of normal. 

Then again, normal had never really worked for you anyway. 

Weird how the apocalypse was better for you as a person than normal life had been. Even with everything that had happened in recent weeks, even with the walker guts staining your clothes and the bruises and the broken rib and the scrounging for food and fighting off the living and the dead, this world was more home to you than what had come before. After all, here you were a survivor, a warrior. Here you were more than a weakling who let a man push her around. Here you were everything you never knew you could have been. 

And here you had Daryl. 

You weren't delusional enough to think the two of you ever would have found each other if the dead hadn't started walking. You didn't think you'd have found the courage to kill your ex, but you hoped you were wrong. But even if you had, you didn't think either you or Daryl would have looked twice at the other if you'd passed each other on the streets of Atlanta, going about a normal day.

You owed the walkers a debt. You'd be happy to repay it the minute they stopped trying to eat you. 

You were mentally chuckling at the image of you trying to give a walker an IOU when you pulled through the newly repaired outer gate of the prison you called home.


	48. Just Happy, Really

Maggie pulled the lower gates open and closed for you with a huge smile. She waved you on up, and you lifted a hand to Glenn in the guard tower as you went by. He lifted the rifle in a casual salute, and then Carol was hauling open the inner gate. Daryl pulled the bike up into the line of vehicles and dropped the kickstand down. 

You let Daryl get off first, and he tugged the backpack full of cans off your back. You gave him a mock scowl, but let him. 

"Hey there, little brother," Merle called, heading your way. He had a shotgun slung over his shoulder and that cocky grin on his lips. 

"We the first ones back?" you asked him as Daryl grabbed your hand while you swung off the back of the bike. 

"That's right, little sister," he drawled back, falling into step beside you. "Rick and the Samurai are still gone. Y'all are back sooner'n we had thought." 

"Mission successful, Mr. Dixon," you said, and Daryl snorted. You grinned at him. "Can you boys play nice and put the groceries away? I'm gonna hit the guard tower, check in with Glenn." 

"It's like she don't trust us at all, little brother!" Merle complained, but he was smiling at you fondly. Daryl's lips twitched, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you in for a kiss before giving you a push toward the tower. 

"Behave yourselves, boys!" You said with a laugh as you jogged over to the gate again. 

Carol was on her way back and waved as you went past. You slid through the gate and headed up the steps to the tower. 

"What's up, Speed Racer?" 

"God, you're in a good mood. You get lucky out there or something?" Glenn muttered at you, and you laughed. 

"Naw," you said. "But we got a damn good bit of food. And we saw a place with seed, so after we get our difficult neighbors dealt with, we can start plantin'. I've got some ideas about sustainability for this place." 

Glenn gave you a look, a slight smile on his lips. "Sustainability?" 

"Yeah," you said cheerfully. "Rain barrels over there. Fields in that corner. Maybe some basic farm animals over there. All the chickens and pigs in the world can't be dead. Goats are tough bastards too, so maybe we'll be able to have milk and cheese. I miss cheese." 

Glenn laughed. "I miss pizza. Weird, since when I delivered them all the time, I never wanted any." 

"Oh, God, pizza! Pizza would be divine!" you laughed. "Anyway, I have ideas," you shrugged. 

"They're good ideas," Glenn said seriously. "I don't know how you're thinking that far ahead, but they're good ideas." 

"Thanks. So, what happened while we were gone? Anything major?" 

He snorted. "No, nothing major. Same old same old." 

"Merle gave you trouble." It wasn't a question, and Glenn shook his head a little. 

"He tried, but even I don't think he meant it. He's different that he was in Atlanta." 

"How so?" you asked. "I feel like I missed out on a lot by comin' in late." 

"I forget you weren't at the camp. You didn't know him, or Jim, or the Morales' family. Or Andrea's sister Amy," he added. "Merle was... Well, it was both of them, really. The Dixons." He rolled the name over his tongue with distaste, and you shot Glenn a look. 

"Look, Daryl's amazing. And even the he wasn't bad, but the two of them together? They were loud, and rude, and larger than life. Two redneck hicks who came striding into camp like they owned the place. Merle yelling at everybody and everything, arguing with every decision Shane or Dale made." Glenn shook his head. 

"So, Merle had his asshole act on all time," you said. 

"Yeah, pretty much. Daryl was quieter, but when he spoke up, he was the same in a lot of ways. Not as much of an asshole as his brother, but still larger than life and questioning everything. We pretty much ignored Merle, but with Daryl we tried. He was just so closed off. He spent more time in the woods than in the camp," Glenn mused. "Merle spent more time sitting on his ass and telling Daryl he was worthless than anything. Daryl spent all of his time swinging between trying to get away from his brother and defending him to us." 

"That sounds right," you said with a soft smile. "And now?" 

Glenn shrugged. "He's still an asshole. But something changed. I don't know if it was the way Daryl has changed, or the way you treat him, but he respects the both of you. So he's trying. And maybe he's not all bad, under all the noise." 

"That's what I think, too," you mused, turning to lean your elbows against the railing and look down into the courtyard. You smiled as Daryl and Merle came back out, both of them going over to Daryl's bike. You watched Merle pointing to things and Daryl gesturing widely, and you could imagine their voices as they argued. "I think maybe Merle just needed a chance. Something to protect, someone to stand up to him, and a little faith. They had precious little faith in them before." 

You looked at Glenn. "Thanks for trusting me enough to let him in here," you said quietly. "I can't imagine how hard that was. I haven't forgotten what it was like for you there, I promise. I still owe Merle a good ass kicking. And I wouldn't fault you for doin' the same." 

Glenn shrugged. "I'm pretty much over it. He was looking for his brother, and I was in his way. It occurred to me when Andrea came how little I wouldn't do if I was looking for Maggie. Daryl's the only family Merle had. The walker was a little far, though," he said with a tiny smile. 

You laughed. "Oh yeah, that's one of the things I owe him for." 

You both snapped around when you heard the faint sounds of a car engine. You snagged the binoculars from beside Glenn as he brought up the rifle's scope, scanning the woods around for the source. You relaxed when you saw Rick's car coming around a curve, and you grinned. 

"I've got them," you told Glenn and clapped him on the shoulder. You handed him the binoculars, then let out a loud whistle.   
When Daryl and Merle looked up, you circled your hand in the air and pointed toward the road, then headed down the stairs.

 

Daryl pushed you aside with a growl as you went to pull open the gate. You scowled at him, but your rib was still broken after all, so you let him. Michonne was driving, and Carl leaned out the back window to wave at you as they drove by. He was smiling, and so was Rick, so you were pretty confident everything had gone well. 

You'd had two big wins in one day, and a week to rest up. You were on top of the world. 

You darted forward and sunk your machete into the skull of a walker who got too close, and Daryl drug the gate closed again. He did the same for the second gate, and then you ran up and jumped onto his back, arms and legs wrapping around him. 

"Damn it, woman!" he snapped, but he grabbed your legs and hitched you into a better position on his back and started up the road. "What the hell has gotten into you?" he muttered, and you laughed. 

You pressed a kiss to his ear. "Nothing. I'm just... I'm just happy. We've got this place, your brother isn't too much of an ass, I've got family and friends and a purpose. I'm somebody here, somebody strong. And I've got you. I was thinkin', on the way in, how if the world hadn't gone to shit we wouldn't have ever found each other. I'm glad the world ended, Dixon, and glad I found you, and Rick and Carl and everyone. So I'm just... Happy." You dropped down from his back to grab his hand, and he tugged you into his side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

"I ain't never been so happy I just jumped on a person like that," he grumbled, and you grinned. Then he leaned over and kissed your cheek. "But I've also never been happier than I am with you. I guess I'm pretty damn glad the world ended myself." 

You were smiling at him when Glenn yelled something from the tower and gestured behind you. 

Damn it all. You'd been having such a good day.


	49. Can't Out-Bitch a Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mention of rape/non con elements

It was a single car, coming slowly up the road. You glanced at Daryl, got a nod in return, and then the two of you were turning, running full out back toward the gates. 

The two of you ducked behind the overturned bus, the only cover you had available. You tapped Daryl's shoulder and made a 'wait here' gesture. He nodded, and you slid through the emergency exit at the back of the bus and inside it. Two rows up, on the left, and you reached under the seat to where the shotgun had been stashed, leaning against what had been the floor and was now the wall. You pulled it free and were back out, sliding into place beside Daryl.

There were walkers along the fence, drawn by the motorcycle and Rick's car and the presence of others, and they rattled the walls and filled the air with their moans and hisses and snarls. They turned and watched, like you and Daryl, and the car rolled to a stop at the gates. 

It was the car Rick had loaned Andrea, and you could see her behind the wheel. You were crouched down, leaning around the edge of the bus, and Daryl stood just behind you, crossbow aimed over your head. You glanced up at him and lifted an eyebrow. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and you waited. 

After a long moment, the driver's side opened, and Andrea came out, hands up. She stayed in the open door of her car, eyeing interested walkers warily. 

"I'm alone," she called. "I know you're there. Come on, Daryl, I wanna talk to Rick." 

Daryl hesitated still. He was watching the walkers and so were you. They had started turning from the fence and staggering jerkily toward Apocalypse Barbie. She dropped one hand down out of sight behind her car door, then returned it to view with a knife gripped in it. 

"Seriously, Daryl? I've only got the knife. There are too many of them for me to take on alone without a gun!" She called now, sounding annoyed. 

"I could take them," you called to her, grinning up at Daryl. He rolled his eyes at you and nodded. 

You rose, walking out to the gate, and Daryl came behind you, covering you. 

"Hey Barbie," you said cheerfully. "What's happening?" 

"Open up, guys, come on!" she snapped, avoiding your eyes and looking at Daryl. 

"Better talk to YN," he grunted. "I ain't in charge here." 

You smiled at Andrea, waiting. You could be a petty bitch sometimes, too.

The first walker was really close, and Andrea turned to deal with it. She glanced at the second one, and the third and fourth and so on, coming not to far behind, and groaned. 

"Fine! Hello, YN. I need to talk to Rick. I'm alone; I don't have any guns; will you please open this damn gate before I get eaten?" 

You looked at Daryl and jerked your head toward the gate. "Let the woman in, Dixon. She said please." 

"Thank you!" Andrea huffed, and started to get in her car. 

"The car stays outside. You walk with us," you said shortly as Daryl unlocked the gate. He pushed it open just enough for a person to slide in. 

Andrea slammed the car door shut, shaking her head as she came through. You had the shotgun up in a second, trained on her while Daryl closed and locked the gate. 

"Ok, Barbie, you know the drill," you said, and she held her hands up with another long-suffering sigh. Daryl gave her a quick pat down, taking the knife from her hand and shoving it into his belt. 

"For real?" she muttered. "Don't I have any trust with you guys?" 

"You're sleepin' with a damn rapist," Daryl growled. "You wanted to talk to Rick? Move." 

He pushed her ahead of him, and you fell into step beside him. 

At the inner gate, Merle was waiting. He had the gate open, but was standing in the center of the path through. 

"You search her?" he asked his brother. 

Daryl snorted at him. "Just had the knife. I ain't a fool, dickhead." 

"Come on, boys, we have company," you said. "Behave." 

Merle winked at you as he stepped aside, and Andrea rolled her eyes as you gestured her forward. You looked up at the guard tower and flashed Glenn a thumb's up. He shot one back and turned back to watching the woods outside. 

 

Carl was waiting just outside the cell block door. "Dad said to wait here. He doesn't want her inside." He spoke directly to you, not to Andrea, and you saw her stiffen. 

You nodded. "Everything ok?" 

"Yeah," he said. "We're good." 

The four of you didn't say anything else, determined not to give any information to Andrea. She sighed, shifted her weight a little on her feet, and hooked her thumbs through the pockets on her jeans. 

"See you got the gates fixed," she said conversationally. 

Daryl grunted at her. 

Pause. 

"Is that Glenn up in the guard tower? He heal up ok from Merle?" 

You snorted and shook your head, catching Carl's eye. He smiled a little too, but you could tell he was irritated. None of you answered her, and after a bit she let out another annoyed sigh. 

Finally, Carl spoke. "Aren't you going to ask about YN?" 

Andrea glanced at you and then away again, and you grinned at her. "I'm doing great, thanks for askin'. The bruises are almost completely gone and Hershel says I can start havin' sex again in another week. Oh, sorry, was that too much information?" You asked innocently as Andrea paled and stepped back a bit.

Merle bent half over, his hand and stump resting on his knees, wheezing with laughter. "Oh my Jesus fuckin' Christ. Oh, baby brother, baby brother! Your woman is a goddamn treasure!" 

"Ain't my woman. She's her own damn woman, and she should keep her own damn mouth shut," Daryl muttered. 

Rick chose that moment to open the door and stalk down the steps, hand on his gun. "What's so funny?" he asked, glaring at Andrea. 

"Andrea was being a bitch and YN put in her place," Carl said simply. 

Rick's lips twitched as he glanced at you, then turned back to Andrea. "What do you want?" he asked. 

She sighed as Merle's laughter finally faded out. "Can't we talk inside?" She complained. "I swear, I'm not your enemy, Rick." 

"Yeah, you are," he said simply. "You used to be our friend. Now you're sleepin' with the enemy. You're in our gates for old friendship's sake. Now, what. Do you. Want?" 

She heaved a frustrated sigh. "Fine. Fine! He wants to meet with you. He sent me to arrange a sit down between you. Tomorrow. At that barn halfway between here and Woodbury. Three pm." 

You looked at Rick, who glanced at you and Daryl. You shrugged. "You aren't goin' alone, Rick." 

"No, I ain't," he agreed calmly. "Three people each. I bring three, he brings you and two others." 

"Why do you get to choose one of his people?" Andrea asked. "He won't go for that. Two people each, and I'm a neutral party. A bridge between you." 

Rick stared at her hard. Then he nodded, once, and turned on his heel and stalked back toward the cell block door. "Daryl, Merle, see her out," he called over his shoulder. 

 

They tried to argue when you said you were going. 

They tried. 

Daryl started yelling at one point, his gestures wild as he paced like a caged animal. Merle started toward him like he was pissed, but you saw Carl just grab his arm and shake his head, and then you were toe to toe with Daryl, shouting back. 

Finally they'd had no choice but to agree, when you informed them, coldly, that if they didn't make you one of their two representatives, you'd just sneak out and follow them anyway. 

Daryl had scoffed and walked away, shaking his head when Rick had finally agreed. You didn't like causing problems between them, but you were going to be there. You had to be. 

"I'll calm him down," you reassured Rick. 

"I know," he told you. "And I get why you want to be there; I do. He's just scared for you." 

You patted Rick's shoulder and started to go after Daryl, but then he was striding back into the room. He stalked up to you, grabbed your arm, and hauled you onto your toes to kiss you, hard. 

"Damn it, woman. I don't like it, but it ain't my call," he growled at you as he pushed you back down onto the bench you'd been sitting on before the fighting started. "But I'm goin' with you. Let's make a damn plan." 

So you made a damn plan.

 

Rick filled you in on his trip with Carl and Michonne. It was pretty successful, but you could see the worry in his eyes as he talked about his friend, Morgan. They'd gotten more guns and ammo, though, and that was all that really mattered for right now. 

Rick pulled you and Daryl aside after everything was in place. "I need to talk to you two. Let's go outside, alright?" 

You glanced at Daryl, who shrugged. 

Outside, Rick leaned against the wall and stared up at the sky for a long time. "I wanted to talk to you two before we go. There's two things. First, we can't provoke them. I'm not gonna say you aren't the right people to go, because I want you both at my back while I'm there. But you are the two with the biggest grudge against these people right now. If you're goin', I need your word you won't start anything. We go, we talk, we leave. That's it." 

He looked at Daryl as he spoke. Daryl said nothing, just stared back at Rick. You sighed and touched Daryl's arm. 

"If I can do it, you can," you told him. "I promise, Rick. I'm not goin' in some quest for revenge. I'm goin' because I can't afford not to. He needs to know we aren't scared of him, and I'm the best way we have to do that. I send a damn message, loud and clear, if I go: he can do his worst, but we won't even blink." 

Rick was nodding. "I know. I thought of that too. I wouldn't have asked it of you, not ever, but when you said you were going I wasn't gonna turn you down. Sorry, brother," he said to Daryl. 

Daryl shook his head. "She makes her own choices. If she says she can, she will. I can't stop her any more than you can." He looked at you then, and smiled. "I wouldn't want to, either," he added. "You've got my promise too, Rick. I want his eye- hell, I want his damn head on a pike outside our gates. But I can wait." 

Rick patted him on the shoulder, once. "That's the other thing," he said softly. "I've got to ask another favor of you both. If we can make a deal, it'll end the fight before it begins. No one else gets hurt on our side. We live in peace with Woodbury. If he agrees- and I think it's a pretty fuckin' big if- can you?" 

Daryl shook his head and took a few steps away. He kicked out, hard, at a rock and sent it flying, then stood with his head bowed for a long moment. 

"I'm sorry," Rick said softly. "I know it's too much to ask, and I wouldn't. But my kids are in here. My family, including you two. I'd give anything to keep everyone safe. But I need to know if you can do it. Live in peace with them." 

You touched Rick's arm. "Make any deal you need to, Rick. Any deal that keeps all of us safe. He won't honor it, and the moment he breaks it, we'll have him." Your voice was cold. 

Rick looked at you. "We don't break deals." 

You smiled. "Exactly. We won't. He will. We all know it, Rick. If makin' a deal gives us enough time to really prepare, it's worth it. Daryl will have his head eventually." 

"Yeah. But like I said," Daryl growled, coming back over to you and curling a hand in your hair protectively. "I can wait."


	50. Well That Was Productive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vague references to past rape/non con

You got there early the next day to scout out the place. Daryl took his bike, and you and Rick rode in the car. 

The boys made you wait at the car, while they went at the barn from the back. You sighed, but didn't argue. The fact that you were there at all had been a pretty big victory.

Daryl was back, alone, not long after. "It don't feel right," he growled. "He was already in there. Keep it runnin'." 

Then their truck was coming. Daryl had his crossbow aimed on the driver, someone you recognized from your time in Woodbury. Henchman #2, oh goody. 

Andrea hopped out of the passenger side, giving you a long hard look, and some dude with glasses appeared from the backseat. He was buttoned up to his neck and looked wildly out of place. 

You stood casually in the open car door, rifle on your shoulder. 

"What the hell? Why's your boy already in there?" Daryl snarled at Andrea. 

"He's here?" Andrea glared at Henchman #2 and stalked inside without waiting for an answer. 

"Barbie's already pissed off. We're off to just a wonderful start," you drawled to Daryl. He shot you an glance, but lowered his crossbow. 

Henchman #2 placed the butt of his gun on the ground, and Head Nerd took a notepad out of his pocket, opened it onto the hood of the car, and started writing. 

You watched them for a second, then swung your rifle to your back, walked around, and jumped up onto the hood of your car. 

Henchman was watching you closely, and Daryl was watching him. 

"So," you said conversationally. "Who the hell are you guys?" 

Head Nerd looked up and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "Milton Mamet," he said simply, then went back to writing. 

"Great," Daryl said, flashing you a look. "He brought his butler." 

"I'm his adviser," he snapped. "Planning, biters. You know, I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchmen." 

You started laughing at that. Henchman #2, who was leaning against their own car now, was chuckling as well. 

"Better watch your mouth, sunshine," Daryl said to Milton.

"Look, if you and I are gonna be out here pointing guns at each other all day, do me a favor," Henchman #2 said. "Shut your mouth." 

Daryl was up in his face in an instant, and you sighed. "Boys, boys. If it all goes south in there, we'll be at each other's throats soon enough. Let's just stay in our separate corners and try not to kill each other." 

Henchman grinned at you. "Little lady's got a point, man. You gonna back off, or what?" 

Daryl looked him up and down once, scoffed, and came back over to you. He leaned on the car beside you, staring at the other two. The air was filled with charged silence, and the eye contact was real. It was so tense, when the door of the barn slammed open, you were proud of the fact that you didn't jump. 

Andrea stalked out, muttering about macho idiot men, and you started laughing. 

"Oh, Barbie, did they kick you out? Should have known better, honey," you called as she jerked open the passenger side of their truck and glared at you. "Nobody trusts you anymore, do they?" 

She hopped into the vehicle and slammed the door closed behind her, propping one foot on the dash and glaring out the window. Henchman #2 started laughing, a low bubbling chuckle. 

"I like you," he said, nodding at you. "You've got some balls, girl." 

You smiled sweetly and flipped him off. 

 

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. You didn't know. You had your eyes on the woods, looking for some walkers to at least provide some entertainment, when Head Nerd walked toward you. 

Andrea looked up at him. She'd slammed out of the car, still without speaking, a little while ago, and sat down on the bench outside the barn. 

"If we're all going to be here a while, there's no reason not to explore the issues ourselves," Milton said hesitantly. 

"Boss said sit tight and shut up," Henchman snapped. 

"Don't you mean the Governor?" Daryl bit out. 

Into the irritated silence, Milton tried again. "It's a good thing they're sitting down. Especially after what happened." 

"What happened?" Daryl exploded. "Are you serious?" 

"Daryl," you said quietly, and he gave you a look. You shook your head slightly. He sighed and stalked back over to your side. 

"I thought I recognized you," Henchman said, looking at you closely. "You're the chick. The one with Merle." 

Daryl growled at him. "Don't talk to her." 

"Oh, sorry, my man. Didn't know she was taken. After all, she got herself brought in by Merle. Your brother, right? Didn't he have dibs?" Henchman taunted. "Though I suppose my boss called her later, too." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Daryl.

You slid off the car and grabbed Daryl's shoulder, holding him in place. He gave you a look, the 'I'm going to kill him' look, and you just squeezed gently. You stalked toward Henchman, and he looked you up and down and smirked. 

"Hey, asshat. What's your name?" you asked conversationally. 

He grinned. "You've got balls. I like you. Martinez," he answered you, holding out his hand. "And what's your name, beautiful?" 

"YN," you answered, but you just looked at his hand. "Martinez? Keep your goddamn mouth shut, and maybe you won't get yourself killed." 

"Ha! You think you can take me on?" he said, grinning down at you as he puffed himself up. 

Daryl snorted behind you as you gave Martinez your sweetest smile. Then your hand flicked out, and you were pressing your knife to his crotch. 

"Yeah," you said casually. "I think I can." 

You stepped back before he could react, putting your knife away. "I remember you, too," you added over your shoulder as you stepped back to lean beside Daryl. "My question is, how much do you really know about what your boss does to his prisoners?" 

"Oh shut up," Andrea snapped. You didn't even glance her way, but Martinez did. 

Then you heard the clang and the growl of walkers from the silos. 

"Stay here," Daryl snapped to you, and he and Martinez moved off. Andrea followed, and you were left with Milton. You sighed, and he glanced at you. 

"You're a fighter." He said. It wasn't a question, but you shrugged anyway. 

"So is Andrea," he added.

"Oh, I'm not like Andrea," you snapped. 

"Yes, I- I can see that," he said. "I only meant, you're one of their protectors. You have that bow, and the rifle, and the handgun. And the knife. You could have gone with them, but you stayed behind. Why?" 

You shrugged again. "Because Daryl can handle himself against anything out there. Because I'm here to watch for Rick. Because this way I can keep an eye on you." 

He nodded. "Indeed. All reasonable, of course. But you're injured." 

You glared at him. "What makes you say that?" 

"You favor your side, just a little. Broken rib or two, I believe. And, well, I saw you in the arena. I believe it was Merle who kicked you," he said, gesturing at your side. 

You gave him a tight smile. "I'm fine."   
"All right," he went silent, scribbling more in his book, and then Andrea was back. You watched her closely. 

"Where's Daryl?" you asked. 

She finally looked at you and shrugged. "Back there measuring dicks with Martinez." 

You laughed a little at that, knowing it was probably true, and settled in again to wait. 

He and Martinez came around the corner moments later, Daryl with a cigarette between his lips and Martinez swinging his bat and whistling. Daryl came over to you as you lifted an eyebrow. 

"All good," he said quietly. You nodded, and went back to waiting. 

 

The Governor stormed out of the barn, throwing open the door and heading straight toward his vehicle. He threw a glance your way, and you saw him pause. Saw the hitch in his stride as you stood there, proud and straight and, goddamn it, unafraid. 

Suck it, bitch. We're better than you. 

Then the moment was over, and he looked away with a sneer, hopping into the driver's seat of the truck as Rick came striding out after him. Rick jumped into the driver's seat of your car, and you swung around and into the passenger side. Daryl climbed onto his bike, and as the Governor's people climbed into their car, you watched Andrea. She hesitated, slightly, looking between Rick and the Governor. 

Then she climbed in beside the Governor, and Rick was peeling out. 

It was over.


	51. Everyone's All Dramatic, Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of past rape/non con   
> cannon divergence

"Talk to me, Rick," you said quietly. 

Rick shook his head slightly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "He won't deal. Unless." 

He shook his head and slammed his hand into the steering wheel. 

"What is it, Rick? What does he want?" 

Rick shook his head again. "It doesn't matter. I won't do it." 

"Then it doesn't matter if you tell me," you offered. "Maybe it'll help." 

"He wants you," Rick ground out. "You and Michonne. Said he'd accept two things: our unconditional surrender and control of the prison, or you and Michonne delivered to him in chains." 

You blinked at him. "Well then. Knew I'd made an impression." 

"I told him he could shove it up his ass," Rick snarled. "No way in hell. He won't touch you again, you have my word." 

"Rick," you said flatly. 

"I- I didn't want to say anything, anyway. Didn't want you to think, even for a second, I'd consider it." 

You reached out and touched his shoulder as he drove. "I know, Cowboy. I know. What else did he say?" 

"Nothing," Rick said, with a shake of his head. "It was a bunch of threats. Empty words. He said-" Rick broke off and slammed his hand against the side window this time. "Well, he said a lot about you. Trying to get me to get me to come at him. I had to let him. I wanted to take his head, but I had to sit there and let him talk about you like-" He ended with an angry hiss.

You snorted. "Rick, if I was worried about what he had to say about me, I wouldn't have come. I know how men like that are. Hell, I knew Barbie was there too, so I knew there'd be some trash talk. Stop worrying about me. I don't exactly have what you might call a delicate constitution. They're just words." 

"I'm always going to worry about you," he said, and this time you could hear the smile in his voice. He was starting to sound like your friend again.

You grinned at him, then scooted down into the seat, propping your feet on the dash. "So, it's gonna be a fight, then?" 

He sighed again. "Yeah, it is. I didn't think it could go any other way, but... We had to try."

"Yeah. I know." You both fell silent again, and you watched out the window before looking over at Rick again. 

"Did he really say 'in chains'? Man, I've never felt so badass. 'In chains.'" You dropped your voice into a bad impression of a man's on the last two words. 

Rick snorted out a half laugh and eyed you for a moment. "You've got one twisted sense of humor, you know." 

"Yeah, I know." 

 

Back in the prison, everyone was in the common area, waiting for you. Glenn had been up in the guard tower and Carl had been manning the gates, but Rick had waved them both inside when you got there. Carl walked beside you, glancing between the three of you with worried eyes. Glenn went to sit with Maggie as Rick strode to the center of the room. 

"So I met with this Governor," Rick began, rifle tucked under one arm and his hand in his pocket. "Sat with him for quite a while."

"Just the two of you?" Merle asked, sharpening a piece of metal into a new sword for his missing hand. 

"Yeah," Rick said. "He wants the prison. He wants us gone. Dead. He wants us dead, for what we did to Woodbury. We're going to war." 

And he walked out the door. 

"Well," you said into the silence. "Good to see Cowboy hasn't lost his flair for the dramatic." 

There was a general shift in the atmosphere as everyone chuckled a little, but you glanced over their faces and saw worry behind everyone's tense smiles. 

Then the debating began. 

 

After you'd had all you could take, you went out to find Rick. He was leaning against the fence in one of the caged-in footbridges, staring out at the prison yard and the walkers. He didn't even glance up as you approached. 

"Well, the group's takin' it about as well as can be expected," you told him, coming to lean next to him. "Especially after your dramatic exit. Dude," you pushed his shoulder lightly. "What was that?" 

"Yeah," he said slowly, drawing the word out a little. "Sorry about that. He might have messed with my head more than I want to admit." 

You snorted. "Yeah, he can do that. He's a scary bastard, all cold and reasonable and then- you get the glimpse."

"In the eyes," Rick agreed. 

"Yeah. Well, eye," you corrected, and he offered you a small smile. "Merle and Michonne think we should hit first. Carol and Hershel think we should take our chances on the road. But everyone says we're in it together, so if we stay and fight, they're all in. I believe, in an echo of your flair, Hershel's exact words were 'so be it'." 

Rick actually laughed a little at that one, and you smiled too. Then he got serious, hooking his fingers through the fence and dropping his head. 

"Do I tell the others?" he asked. "About what he asked for? None of them will go for it, either, but should they know?" 

"Hmmm." You started picking absently at the skin of your lower lip as you thought. "I know you don't need any additional burdens, but I honestly don't know. I trust everyone here not to try to deliver me to that man, but they might turn on Michonne. We don't need that. On the other hand, if they find out from someone else- say Apocalypse Barbie- then that'll be even worse." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "And then there's Daryl. I'd really rather not have him kill me for believing I could ever agree to that." 

You chuckled a little. "Dixon knows you better than that. It's Merle you'd want to worry about. He's pullin' this White Knight routine all of you seem to have goin' on where it comes to me, and I won't lie, it's freakin' me out." 

Rick looked at you from the corner of his eye. "You didn't have to see you when we got you out of there. If you had, you'd be pulling a 'White Knight routine' too," he said easily. 

You sighed. "It wasn't that bad. I was a little beat up, sure; but I was fine." 

Rick shook his head at you. "Yeah, you say that a lot. But like I said. You didn't see you. We did. And Merle- Daryl and I have talked to him a little. He told us what it was like when the Governor brought you and Maggie out of that room. He said- well, he said it was bad. Said you were already bruising, and half-naked, and your eyes looked dead. That's what he said; your eyes looked dead. It sticks with someone, to see a person like that." 

"He didn't even know me," you protested a little. "Why would it have mattered?"

"I didn't know you on the side of the road, either," Rick pointed out. "But you stuck with me then, all exhausted and mostly dead. You looked like a hard wind would have knocked you over, but you held that rifle rock steady and didn't back down. The way your voice sounded when you told Daryl and Shane to fuck off? I still hear that in my head sometimes." The two of you grinned at each other at the memory. 

"I thought you looked the worst I'd ever see you then. Then Daryl went to check on you when you screamed, down in the lower levels with Shane, and when he brought you back, in his arms- I thought you were dead. That sticks with you, too. Then I saw you layin' against him in that truck outside Woodbury. YN, I know you hate hearing it, but you looked- you looked broken. You aren't. You're stronger than anyone else here, including me. But you looked-" He cut himself off and shook his head, putting his hands on your shoulders before hugging you, hard. He let go and stepped back, but kept one hand on your shoulder. 

"Don't blame Merle for watching over you. He loves Daryl, in his own weird Merle way, and everyone can see how Daryl loves you. Merle's living with the guilt of taking you in there, more than anything else. I think I need to tell them all," he said abruptly changing the subject, and you were infinitely grateful. "Let's go." 

 

It went about as well as you expected. Daryl stared Rick down for a long moment; Michonne turned into a statue; and Merle started yelling and pacing. Everyone started talking over each other, and Rick was trying, he really was, but he was failing. 

You finally just grabbed one of Hershel's crutches from against the wall (he was sitting at the table, come on; you're not a monster), and banged it on the metal table, hard, until everyone shut up and looked at you. 

"All right then," you muttered into the sudden silence. You put Hershel's crutch back down. "Sorry, Doc. Now that you've all shut up again- yes, I'm talkin' to you, Merle! Will you actually listen to what Rick's sayin'? He's not going to turn anyone over to the Governor. Not me, not Michonne, not anyone. He knows what that bastard would do to either of us in a heartbeat. He's literally only tellin' you because he thinks we should all have all the information. Apocalypse Barbie was there too, after all, and she likes to drop by for lovely little unannounced visits. We didn't want her springing anything on anyone at a bad moment." 

Michonne grinned at you from across the room. You grinned back and continued. 

"Now, Rick's told you what he asked. We have three days before Rick's supposed to deliver Michonne and I to him 'in chains'." You added air quotes to the 'in chains' and heard Daryl's huff of air and Carl's chuckle. Even Rick was smiling faintly. 

"Three days is a lot of lead time. We can do this, people. But instead of yellin' about things and not listenin' to each other, we need to come up with a plan. Can we do that?" 

Turns out, apparently you couldn't.


	52. Merle Wants To Get A Tank, Because of Course He Does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past rape/non con

Merle wanted to launch a full attack on the front gate of Woodbury. His plan involved a trip into Atlanta for the tank Rick had found. 

Sadly, you weren't kidding. And you were pretty sure Merle wasn't either. 

Michonne wanted to strike first as well, but she was in favor of a small force- possibly consisting of a single person, perhaps one with a nifty Samurai sword and knowledge of Woodbury's structure, but she wasn't naming names or anything- sneaking in to take out the Governor in a coup d'etat that would, theoretically, cripple their fighters and cause them to surrender with minimal fuss. 

Glenn and Maggie wanted to fortify the prison, stock up on food, and see what happened. 

Carol and Hershel still said you should run while you still could. 

Carl informed you in a private aside that what he really wanted was to find some grenades, lob them at Woodbury, and watch it all burn. You'd been really glad Rick hadn't heard that one. You'd informed Carl back that there were innocent people in Woodbury, and that grenades were generally a really, really bad idea. 

Daryl mostly watched, or told his brother to shut up when his ideas got too crazy. Beth was taking care of Judith, and Rick was trying desperately to listen to and consider everyone's opinions. 

Like a leader should. Weren't you glad you didn't have to do that? 

You, on the other hand, got to do some serious thinking while you semi-ignored them all. You were coming up with an actual plan, that might, possibly, work. 

Oh, Daryl was going to hate this. 

But. 

Shit. 

You walked over to where Rick sat, looking over maps and listening to Hershel point out different nearby locations you might try to fortify if you left the prison. You knew that was a dead end already; you'd run in circles all winter avoiding herds of walkers. You didn't really think you'd taken all of them out now. Merle and Daryl were busy having a Dixon brothers conversation, at top volume, about the efficacy of Merle's plan to bring back a tank from Atlanta. Merle thought it was a damn fine idea. Daryl was currently calling him an idiot in as many different ways as he could come up with. 

He could come up with a pretty impressive list.

"Rick," you said softly. "I need to talk to you. Sorry, Doc." Rick glanced up at your serious expression and started to rise. 

"It's a good idea to have some avenues of retreat; some safe house already set. That proved invaluable when we had to leave the farm, and I know YN has already set some of that up," he said to Hershel, with a glance at you. You grinned and shrugged. You were a planner. 

"But this is the best possible place we can be. I don't think there's anywhere else like it. But if you keep lookin' and find something, I'll be glad to look and listen," Rick finished, and Hershel nodded. 

"You're good at that, Rick," you told him as you headed into the cell block. It was quieter in there, and everyone was milling around the common area anyway. "Bein' a leader. Listening and making sure people feel respected. You're good at it, when you're not yelling about things not bein' a democracy anymore," you teased. 

He snorted. "I'm trying to make up for that night," he said. 

"No, we need a leader. A clear, buck-ends-here point man who has the final say. It's not a democracy and everyone knows it. But they also know you'll listen to them, and that's a good thing too," you said seriously. 

He gave you a look and a smile. "I'm not always sure I am the leader here, and I get the feeling this conversation is going to reinforce that." 

You huffed at him, something you'd stolen from Daryl. "I have an idea. A couple of ideas, actually, but you and everybody else are going to object. Probably loudly. Possibly violently. So I thought I'd run it by you first." 

"Tell me," Rick said, eyeing you suspiciously. 

You did. 

It went about as well as you thought it would go. 

He listened as you outlined the whole thing, arms crossed over his chest. His jaw was tight and you could see the refusal in his eyes, but he listen to every word. When you were finished, he drew in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. 

"Have you lost your damn mind?" he asked, tone quiet but deadly. 

How were you supposed to respond to that, exactly? 

"No?" You made it a question, putting every ounce of sarcasm into that single word that you could. "Rick. It's a solid plan. It has a good chance of succeeding, and if it doesn't; there's a good backup play already in place. It's a one-two punch that covers almost everything. It will work." 

"No, it won't!" Rick exploded at you. "Or maybe it will, but we don't move fast enough. Then what? Or the Governor doesn't do what you expect him to, and then-" 

He broke off, pacing two steps away from you, hands on his hips. "You were right. I object. Loudly, and possibly violently. So will they." 

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't offer it up. They might have ideas to add that I haven't thought of," you said with a shrug. "Rick, it's a plan. An actual plan, not Merle's let's-get-a-fucking-tank idea of a plan. We've got to talk about it, consider it from all the angles, and we should do it with them." 

Rick looked over his shoulder, then came striding back to you. "You really want to do this to Daryl? Just think- think about what it'll be like for him if we were to do this." 

Now you were getting pissed. 

"I have, Rick!" you snapped. "I've thought about what it would do to him. But I've also thought about what it would do to run, or to stand and fight and lose. It sucks no matter what! Everything about this situation, every damn option, sucks ass. So we have to have a plan. And it has to be one that has a snowball's chance in hell of working. And this does!" 

"Fine!" Rick snapped back. "Fine. Let's go tell them, go tell Daryl, that your grand idea is to give yourself up to the man who raped you!" 

You hadn't realized the two of you were yelling, or that you had an audience, until Daryl spoke up. 

"Ya just did," he said, voice quiet and hard. 

Well, fuck. 

You turned to look at him. You could see his knuckles, standing out a stark white from the rest of his tanned skin where he gripped the strap of his crossbow tightly. He was looking at you, and holy hell he was pissed. 

But he was waiting. Waiting for you to explain. 

Oh, god, you loved him so much. 

"Dixon. Don't freak out. I have an idea. It's a pretty good one, and it's the safest option we have," you started, taking a step toward him. 

"Yeah, we disagree on that," Rick snapped. 

You shot him a glare. "Shut up, Rick! You listened to everyone else's half-cocked ideas; now everyone's going to listen to me, damn it." 

"We're listenin'," Daryl said, and you gave him a small smile. 

And you told them. 

Daryl didn't like it either. He was pacing the length of the room, staring at you. You sat on the stairs in the cell block, watching him and listening as the others talked at various volumes around you. 

Daryl paced. But he didn't yell. He didn't argue. He didn't say no. 

Rick was doing all of those things, over and over again. Carl's face was white, his jaw set, and he was staring at the floor. He hated it, every bit of it, and he'd already done some yelling of his own. Glenn and Maggie were having a low, hissing couple's fight in the corner, and Carol and Hershel were back in the outer room, looking over the maps again. 

Trying to find another way. 

They wouldn't. 

It was Merle who surprised you; Merle and Michonne. Michonne had agreed immediately, didn't even hesitate. And Merle was on your side. He and Rick were yelling at each other now, about safety and what the Governor would do in this situation or that, and how fast your people could make a move if this went on. 

You didn't step in, because that was what you wanted. Maybe Rick was dead against it, protesting every step of the way, but they were working out the contingencies. Like you had wanted all along. 

You were watching Daryl. It hinged on him, and you both knew it. If Daryl said no, Rick would never agree. But if Daryl agreed, Rick could hardly reject it out of hand. 

And Daryl paced. Until he stopped. 

He stalked across the room toward you, much as he had when he'd finally stopped objecting to you going to the summit. He dropped down into a crouch in front of you, still silent and staring. He reached up one hand, and his fingers trembled slightly as he brushed them across your cheek and over your lips. 

"I hate this," he whispered finally. 

"I know," you whispered back. "I'm sorry." 

"I know," he echoed you. "You sure about it? Can you handle it?" 

You smiled softly. "Have you met me, Dixon? Besides, you'll have my back. I can handle anything if I've got you lookin' out for me." 

He dropped his head, hand still on your face. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and looked back into your eyes. He nodded once, and pulled you in to kiss your forehead. Then he rose, letting his hand fall from your face and walked over to Rick. 

Rick was stabbing a finger at Merle as he yelled about stupidity and someone getting killed and too many variables. Daryl just put a hand on his shoulder. Rick stilled, and reluctantly looked at him. The whole room went quiet again, even Maggie and Glenn stopping their whispered fight, and Carl looked up from the floor. 

Daryl just nodded. "She's right."


	53. Two Days Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of past rape/non con  
> cannon divergence

Three days really wasn't that long. 

The first went by in a blink; a frenzy of activity as your group started setting the wheels in motion. There was more discussion, ideas tossed around, rejected, refined. The first step was to protect your exits. Always have a backdoor. 

So you went with Daryl and Merle, planting guns and knives and packs in cars on three different exit routes out of there, that Carol and Hershel had picked out. Rick sent the three of you so you had extra hands against anything the Governor might have put up around the prison. There were no major complications, just a walker attack out of the blue as you were maneuvering cars to clear one exit; but it was nothing the three of you couldn't handle. 

It took most of the day to get set up, however, and when you got back to the prison you still weren't done. While you'd been gone, Rick, Glenn, and Michonne had been working on another part of the plan, going back and undoing strategic parts of the walls and blocks Glenn and Carl had so painstakingly put into place to keep the walkers out of your part of the prison. They didn't take anything down too fast; this plan was all about precision and timing. 

When you and the Dixons rolled back up, Carl was in the tower and Glenn was on the gates. After he let you in, he signaled for Daryl to wait for him. He rolled the gate closed and then came over to your lowered window. 

"Everything go ok?" he asked. 

Daryl just grunted at him. You rolled your eyes. 

"Yeah, all's good. What's up, Speed Racer?" you asked Glenn, knowing something was bothering him. 

"Can I- can you help me? It won't take too long, I promise." If anything, Glenn looked even shiftier. 

You eyed him for a minute, then shrugged. "Sure. See you inside, boys," you called casually to Daryl and Merle as you hopped out of the car. 

You and Glenn waited as Daryl gave you a long look before heading further up to the prison. 

"Ok, dude. What's going on?" you asked Glenn, crossing your arms and turning to look at him seriously. 

He shuffled his feet for a minute, then blurted, "I want to ask Maggie to marry me and I need a ring." 

Holy shitballs, you had not seen that one coming. 

"Wow," you said. "Ok, wait, processing here." You held up one finger while you let his words sink in. 

"Holy shit! That's amazing!" you cried after a moment. "That's the best news I've heard in forever!" You threw your arms around him and held on tight. 

He was laughing as he hugged you back. "Thanks, YN," he said, patting your back. You let him go and just beamed at him. 

"How are you going to get a ring though? And how can I help?" you asked. 

"Well, I figured there's bound to be a walker around here with a wedding set, right?" he asked, looking at you nervously. "It's not the most romantic thing in the world, but I don't have a lot of other options." 

You hugged him again. "No, that's good. Yeah, I bet we can find Maggie a big rock around here somewhere. Damn, I wish we had time to go hit that little pawnshop, where Merle grabbed us. There was a whole display there."

Glenn looked at you oddly. "Yeah, even if there was time, I wouldn't want to go back there." 

The two of you were laughing, and Glenn was so adorably nervous while you compared rings from a couple of different walkers. He finally settled on the one you would have chosen for Maggie as well, and he beamed when he looked at it. 

"Oh God," he said suddenly as you were walking back up to the prison. "Now I have to ask her!" 

You started laughing and couldn't stop. "Glenn, honey, she's goin' to say yes. This is just a formality; you two are already so married it hurts." 

He smiled, but you could tell he was getting more and more nervous. When you came through the inner gate, Carl gave you a strange look. You just flashed him a thumbs up and he nodded and went back to scanning the woods through the binoculars. 

Maggie was already outside, checking the gas and oil and tires of your little fleet of vehicles. 

"Oh God," Glenn said, and you could see him getting ready to back out. You grabbed his arm and shoved him in her direction. 

"Go! Ask!" you ordered, grinning from ear to ear. He stumbled a little and shot you a look, then took a deep breath and went over to her. 

You watched as he took her hand and led her away from the cars. You were still watching as he talked to her when Daryl came up behind you. 

"Whatcha doin', woman?" he asked, and you grabbed his hand and shushed him. 

"Just watch," you told him, leaning into him as he slipped his arms around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder as Glenn grabbed Maggie's hand. 

Glenn turned Maggie's hand so it was palm up, opening her fingers and then placing something on her palm. He curled her fingers around it and let go. She was asking him something, smiling a little confusedly at him, as she uncurled her fingers. You watched as her face went blank for a second and held your breath. 

Then she was grinning from ear to ear and kissing Glenn, and you sighed a little as Glenn wrapped her in a hug and lifted her off her feet. 

"You gonna tell me what that's all about yet?" Daryl asked and you slid your fingers into his hair. 

"No. They will," you answered as Maggie came running toward you, Glenn in tow. "Hey, guys. What's happening?" 

Glenn rolled his eyes at you behind Maggie's back. Maggie just beamed, and held out her hand wordlessly. 

You grinned back as she finally found the words. 

"Glenn just asked me to marry him! I said yes!" 

"Well, shit," Daryl said behind you, then let go of you to first grab Maggie in a hug and then thump Glenn on the back a few times. 

You hugged Maggie when he let her go, and she held on, rocking back and forth and squealing a little. 

"I'm so happy for you," you told her as she eased back. "Do you like it?" you nodded at the ring. 

"I would have said yes without anything from him. Hell, we're basically married already. But this is perfect. So sweet and totally him to go find something," Maggie said, glancing down at her finger with a fond smile. "Is that what you two were doing down there at the fence?" 

You grinned at her. "Yeah. I helped, but he chose. It suits you." 

She was grinning back. "I'm gonna go tell Daddy and Beth! See you inside!" 

She grabbed Glenn's hand and drug him toward the cell block. Glenn just looked at you and shrugged, beaming almost as much as she was. 

Daryl was watching you watch them. "They seem happy," he said with a smile. 

"Yeah," you agreed. "They're perfect for each other. And we all needed some happy right now, so they have perfect timing." 

He held his arms out to you and you went into his hug. "I wish you'd change your mind about this, woman," he said seriously. 

"I know," you said into his chest. "But I can't. It's the best chance we have." 

He sighed. "I know." 

 

Day two went to packing. Every bit of the group's things were stuffed into bags, packs, and boxes, and loaded into your cars. 

Carl was stalking around, not speaking to anyone, even you. He hit Daryl's hand away when Daryl tried to take a bag from him to load, and snarled at his dad when Rick snapped out his name. They looked at you helplessly, and you sighed. 

You followed Carl out to the cars, leaning against the wall as he loaded his stuff up. You motioned Michonne and Glenn to go back inside as they glanced between you and him. He turned after closing the back hatch and started to walk by you, but you stuck out one arm and grabbed his shoulder. 

He whirled, knocking your hand away, and glared at you. "What?" he snapped, and it was the first word he'd said to you since after the meeting with the Governor. 

Your heart hurt at the venom in his voice, but you pushed it away. 

"Grimes," you said softly. "Talk to me, kid." 

His face contorted when you used his last name, and he turned away from you, shaking his head rapidly. You could see his shoulders jerk, and then you heard him take in a long ragged breath. You reached out to touch his shoulders again, turning him to face you as you bent to his level. 

He was looking at the ground, but he let you turn him. You could see the tears on his cheeks, and you put a finger under his chin and tipped his head up to look at you. Then you just sighed, and pulled him into a hug. 

His arms came around you and he put his face in your shoulder. "I'm mad at you," he whispered, and you nodded. You squeezed him once and stepped back. 

He rubbed angrily at his eyes and glared at you again. "I'm mad at you," he repeated, and his jaw set. 

He looked so much like Rick when he did that. 

"I'm mad at you, and I'm mad at Dad and Daryl and Merle and everyone," he continued, looking at something just over your shoulder. You nodded again, and he burst into motion, throwing his hands up and pacing a little in imitation of Rick and Daryl. 

"How could they let you do this? How could they agree to this? Hell, how could you even suggest it? Do you want to die?" he yelled, then his voice dropped to whisper. "Do you want to get away from us this bad?" 

Oh that hurt. That hurt a lot. 

"Hey, kid; come on," you said softly. You moved until he was forced to meet your eyes. "You know that's not it. You know I love you. All of you." 

His jaw twitched stubbornly, but he looked away. 

"Ok, Grimes. Come on." You leaned back against the wall and then slid down it to sit on the ground. "Come here." 

He followed you after a moment's hesitation, sitting beside you and leaning his head on the wall. He propped his arms on his knees and picked at the sleeves of his plaid shirt. He'd been wearing it since you'd joined the group, and you were shocked to see that it fit now, whereas before it had been too big, practically swallowing him. 

"I know you've had it rough the last few months," you started quietly, and he shook his head, glaring at you. "No, stop. We all have, I know," you held up a hand to keep him from interrupting you. 

"But, kid, you lost your mom. And you shot her to keep her from becoming a walker. And you had to watch over her while Maggie cut her open to save your sister. Then your dad went a little crazy, and I don't blame you for feeling like he abandoned you. Then Shane attacked me, and you lost your uncle for real. Then Maggie, Glenn, and I got captured, and your dad and Daryl left to come save us. I would have been terrified in your shoes. I would have felt like everyone I loved was leaving me, and been afraid they wouldn't come back. Am I close?" you asked as he dropped his eyes to his fingers as his eyes welled up. He nodded after a pause. 

"I thought so. And now, you feel like I'm abandoning you again. And you're mad at me, and your dad and Daryl because you feel like they could stop me, and they aren't." 

He nodded again. "He hurt you. I know you tell everyone you're fine and we're all supposed to act like we believe you, but we all saw you. We all know. He hurt you, badly. You might be all healed on the outside, but you don't say his name. When you do, you hesitate. Your eyes go blank. You're still afraid of him. And now you're going to just.... go back there." 

You heaved a sigh. Damn, this kid was too observant for your good. "Yeah," you said finally. "Yeah, I am. I'm terrified of him, Carl. You're right. But yes, I am just going to go back." 

"Why?" he snapped. "There's other ways! Dad and Daryl shouldn't let you! I don't understand how they can just agree to it!" 

"Ok, first of all, you seem to be under the impression that they can tell me what to do," you said, slightly annoyed. "That's incorrect. They aren't 'letting' me do anything. It was my idea, and it's smart. We're going to give him what he wants, distract him, and then we're going to crush him." Your voice was hard. "Second of all, they've agreed to it because it's the best plan we've got. They trust me to do my part, and I trust them to do theirs." 

He was shaking his head. "But you could get hurt. He wants to hurt you! And you're going to let him!" 

"Probably," you agreed, and he looked at you, eyes wild. "But that's the key, Grimes. I'm going to 'let' him. That means I'll really be the one in control. And I won't be alone. Michonne will be with me, and Daryl and Merle and Rick and everyone will have my back. I trust them, Carl, and you need to trust them too. And I need you to trust me." 

He looked mutinous, but he was softening. You gave him one more push. 

"I'm comin' back to you, Grimes. I promise. But the only way this works, the only way I can do it, is if I know everyone has my back. Everyone. I need to know that you're doing your part, keeping Beth and Hershel and Little Ass-kicker safe for me." 

He held your eyes for another minute, then finally nodded. "I trust you," he whispered. "I'm just scared for you." 

"Aw, kid," you pulled him into another hug and he held on tightly. "I'm scared for me, too. But it's all gonna work out. I swear."


	54. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

Maggie and Glenn got married on day three. 

They hadn't wanted to make a big deal out of it; claiming they didn't really need anything formal and everyone was busy anyway, but you and Beth had teamed up and insisted. 

It was a strange wedding. Merle, of all people, had done some online thing a few years before everything went to hell in a hand basket, and had announced out of nowhere that he was officially a non-denominational, licensed wedding officiant. 

No one had believed him until Daryl had confirmed it. 

So Merle fuckin' Dixon waited in front of the guard tower with a nervous Glenn at his side. Both of them were armed with handguns, knives, and assault rifles slung over their shoulders. Merle had Hershel's open Bible in his hand, and had removed his sword appendage for the occasion. 

Maggie glowed. She was armed to the teeth as well, but Hershel walked her down the 'aisle' your little group formed, her hand slipped into her father's arm over his crutches, and she beamed. When she kissed Hershel's cheek and took Glenn's hands in front of Merle, you realized you were crying. 

It was a strange little wedding, and later you would laugh when you realized what had struck you as the strangest was how clean you all were. Everyone had taken advantage of the prison showers and scrubbed up, even the Dixon brothers. 

It was an odd thing to notice, but these were odd times you all found yourselves in. 

Sadly, there was no time for much of a party afterward, but the newlyweds didn't seem to mind. 

Everyone was finalizing plans. You spent most of your time with Rick and Daryl and Michonne, heads bent over maps and hand drawn diagrams as you went over the plan again and again and again. 

 

And then it was dark, and everything would happen the next day. You were in the guard tower, restless and pacing as you watched the walkers making their way in through the open gates. You'd created a walker minefield in the yard you'd worked so hard to clear twice already, luring them in with open gates and animal carcasses Daryl and Merle had gone out to find. 

Just another obstacle to slow them down tomorrow. You hoped. 

But still, it hurt seeing your home being overrun again. You had given too much to this place, and here you were, about to give even more for it. For these people, for you, all of you, to have a future. 

You could hear Daryl climbing the stairs. Soon enough the door behind you scraped open, and then he was dropping a jacket- his- over your shoulders. 

"It's gettin' cold out here, woman. Ya need to take better care of yourself," he grumbled. 

You shrugged. "I don't mind the chill. But thanks." 

He grunted, leaning against the railing next to you. Neither of you said anything for a long time. Finally you sighed, and turned to lean your forehead onto his shoulder. 

"I'm scared," you admitted. He turned under you and drew you close. 

"I'd be worried if you weren't," he told you. 

"This is the right plan," you said, and you weren't sure if you were telling him or yourself. 

"Yeah." 

He just held you for awhile in the darkness, and you listened to the sound of his heartbeat. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered to him. "I know it's going to be hell for you." 

He snorted. "Shut up, woman. It ain't me who's gonna be in hell. It's you." 

You shrugged. "I can take it." 

"I know. Shouldn't have to, though." 

"Daryl?" 

"Hmmm?" he looked into your eyes as you pulled away just enough to look up at him. 

"You're gonna be there the whole time, right?" 

"Damn straight," he grunted, brushing a hand at the tears you didn't even know were running down your cheeks. "I ain't leavin' you there alone. Not really. Promise." 

You nodded, and leaned back into his arms. 

 

You woke up to the first signs of dawn, with your head in Daryl's lap, still in the guard tower. He'd forced you to lie down eventually, knowing you needed to be out in the air. He'd lulled you to sleep by combing his fingers through you hair, over and over until you'd felt your eyes close. 

Now it was day four. It was time to put your plans into action. 

You were fuckin' terrified. 

"Mornin', woman," Daryl said quietly as he felt you stir. 

"Morning, Dixon," you said, and you heard the edge to your voice. 

"Hey. You're ok. You've got this," he told you, squeezing your hand. You nodded at him, holding on tightly. 

"Come here," he said, giving your hand a tug, and you crawled into his lap. He pulled you close, kissing you softly. "I love ya. I've got your back, YN. Always." 

You leaned against him with a sigh. "I love you too, Daryl," you whispered, and you watched the sun come up together.

Then you headed down to get started.


	55. The Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon-typical violence

Rick drove. You and Michonne were in the back, and Michonne's hands were tied. Daryl was in the front seat, for now.

"'In chains', Rick. He said 'in chains'," you muttered, and Michonne grinned at you. 

Rick and Daryl didn't respond. They hated everything about this. 

But it was happening. 

Carl had already left with Hershel, Beth, and Judith. They were heading to one of your safe spots, a supply drop zone you'd established at a run down, mostly collapsed shed. It was close enough to the prison to be able to see how things went, but far enough that if they needed to run, they could get away to one of the exit vehicles. 

Your fleet of cars, loaded with everyone's gear from the prison, had been driven away the day before, parked together at one of your rendezvous points. The prison looked deserted as Rick drove you away. 

That was the point, but it still made your heart hurt. 

Walkers crowded your vehicle as you went through. Rick stopped just outside the gates, and he and Daryl jumped out. They ran to the gates and pulled out the home-made tire strips you'd spent a day putting together, pulling them into place and kicking the gravel around to hide them. Hopefully, the Governor's people wouldn't even notice, and they'd have blown tires when they tried to drive in. 

Then they were back inside, doors slamming shut, and you were off. 

Rick was taking you to the Governor. 

 

About a mile ahead of the barn, Rick stopped the car. You were well covered by trees, and hopefully no one was spying on the road already. 

Daryl turned in the seat and looked at you seriously. "I'll be there the whole time. No matter what." 

You gave him a small smile. "I know." 

"I love you, woman. Be careful. Stay alive." 

"You too, Dixon," you whispered, and then he was gone; jumping out of the car and disappearing into the trees. 

Rick started the car again, meeting your eyes in the rear view mirror. "We can still change our minds," he offered, and you shook your head. 

"No, we can't." 

"No, I guess we can't," he sighed. 

 

You got there first this time, which was good. Rick parked, and you climbed out while he helped Michonne out to stand to the side of his car. He leaned against the hood, and you stood behind Michonne and back a bit, and waited. 

Minutes ticked by. 

Sweat rolled down your back and you glanced at Michonne. She stood, silent and poised, like she did shit like this all the time.

Hell, for all you knew, she did do shit like this all time. She had been basically since you'd met her, anyway. 

You envied her cool. 

Rick watching you, looking like he wanted to throw up. Or possibly shoot someone. 

Maybe both. 

You waited some more. 

 

You heard the rumble of the same truck from before, and then it was there, screeching to a stop. Another vehicle pulled up behind it, an army transport vehicle with a huge gun mounted to it and someone manning it.

The Governor was stepping out of his truck, and Rick was jerking Michonne forward by the arm. 

"Why isn't the other one tied, too. I believe I asked for both of them," he sneered to Rick. Rick glared at him. 

"You can have Michonne, but I'm not giving you YN. Take it or leave it," Rick said, and if you hadn't known better, you would have believed he was handing her over. He was a damn good actor. 

"Nope. Not good enough," the Governor said, a small smile on his lips. He barely glanced at Michonne, focusing on you. 

You felt the calm you'd been searching for descend as he raked his gaze over your body. You could handle this. Hell, it was your idea. 

You stepped backward, just a little, as Rick hesitated. Rick glanced back over his shoulder, toward you, then shook his head at the Governor. 

"No. I said you can have Michonne. Or you can have no one at all." Rick had one hand on his gun belt, and he tilted his head to look at the Governor. 

Come on, come on. Dance with me, you fucker, you found yourself thinking as you stared the Governor down. 

He stepped toward Michonne, and you made yourself flinch and take another tiny shift backward. His eyes were still on you, and you saw him see your movements. Something ugly passed through his eyes, and you knew you had him. 

"You're saying you'll only give me one of them?" he said to Rick, turning his eyes away from you for the first time to study Rick and Michonne. 

"Maybe," Rick said quietly, stepping into the potential wording trap like he didn't even see it. "If you'll leave us alone. Let us live in peace." 

The Governor nodded, bringing his hand up to Michonne's arm. "Ok," he said, starting to turn away. "Or I could just shoot you now and take them both." 

His men all racked bullets into their guns, and you let out a squeak and backed up another half step. 

"Stay put, darlin'," the Governor snapped at you. "And let me see those hands, Rick. Come on now, put them up." 

Rick's hands slowly raised, and you saw him put a little tremble in them. 

"I'm taking them both," the Governor told Rick smoothly. "Now get in your car, and go back to your prison, and you'll get to live." 

Rick hesitated, and the Governor snarled. "I said, go!" 

Rick nodded, and backed toward the car. 

"Rick?" you put a quiver in your voice, and Rick shot you a tortured glance. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he got in the car. 

Oh, damn, the man was good. 

"Rick, no!" you cried, taking a step toward him as he slammed the door and started the car. He stared straight ahead, not looking at you or Michonne, as he backed up toward the woods and drove away. 

"That was too easy," the Governor said with a laugh, and you snapped your gaze back to him. You backed away on trembling feet as he shoved Michonne to the side. She stumbled a little, going down to one knee for a minute, and he walked past her as she pulled herself back to her feet. She didn't look at you, keeping her eyes focused on the others of his men. 

There were two leaning in the doors of the Governor's truck, Martinez and someone else you didn't recognize, and another two in the army vehicle. 

"Martinez, take Allen and the truck to join the others. Have them start the attack on the prison. Take that one with you. Shumpert and one other stay with me," the Governor ordered. "We'll join you soon enough." 

Damn it. That was not the plan. 

Michonne met your eyes, a silent question, and you shook your head, shifting your eyes from the Governor to her, panic filling your eyes. You hoped the Governor saw it as denial of what was happening, not as the message to her it was. 

Martinez jumped down and grabbed Michonne's arm, pulling her to the army truck and shoving her into the back. He slapped one man on the shoulder, who hopped out and came over to stand at the Governor's back. Then Martinez cast you an almost apologetic look, and slapped the side of the vehicle twice. He didn't look back as they drove away.

"Now, little missy," he stepped closer to you. "I've got some unfinished business with you." 

He slapped you, hard, across the face, and you fell to the ground, bringing your hand up to your cheek. He crouched on his heels and grabbed your hair, pulling you up to look in your eyes. 

"I think I'll keep you close to me," he said, and smiled.


	56. To Hell in a Hand Basket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> implied threat of rape/non con

You were in the front seat of his truck, and he had his arm around you, his fingers caressing your upper arm as he drove. Shumpert was on your other side, and the Governor was keeping you pressed as close to him as possible.

You really, really wanted to throw up. 

Your breath came in little shallow gasps, and your eyes never seemed to rest on one thing for very long. He had his wrist on the wheel, steering the truck casually, like you were going on a date, not to go destroy your home. He'd been keeping up a steady monologue of threats, suggestions, and innuendo in your ear, but you honestly hadn't been listening to him. Your mind wouldn't concentrate on his words.

He didn't seem to care. 

He stroked his fingers over your cheek, and you flinched. He laughed a little. 

"Come on now, sweetheart. I thought we'd had such a good time on our first date!" he said. "Was it not good for you?" 

His smile made your heart stop and you let out a small noise. He grinned harder, wrapping his fingers up in your hair, and tugged your head back. 

Shumpert looked away guiltily, but the guy in the back met your eyes in the rear view mirror and licked his lips. 

You felt tears in your eyes and let them fall as the Governor released his grip on your hair and stroked his fingers over your neck now. 

"Come on, honey. We're almost there now. Then you can come with me, and watch your friends die. I think I'll start with the one with the crossbow, Merle's brother. It seemed like the two of you were pretty tight. Andrea- you remember Andrea, right?- she told me something interesting after you shot up my town. She said you were Merle's little brother's girlfriend! Imagine my surprise," his hands returned to your arm, and he squeezed you to him. 

"Yes, I definitely think I'll start with him. Now, my Andrea- oh, she hated you. Had a lot of things to say about you. You might have noticed I used the past tense. That's because if she isn't dead yet, she will be soon. I left her with Milton. They betrayed me, you see. She tried to get to your friends at the prison and warn them of my plans. So I stabbed Milton and left him in that little room where we had so much fun. Andrea's in there too, but she's handcuffed to a chair. I'm thinking she won't be hating you much longer!" He laughed again, and you retched a little. 

"Hey now, honey, don't do that. It'll be ok. She's gone now, so you can come home with me. Once I've killed your boyfriend, then I'll kill Merle. The little lovebirds he brought in with you will be next. Then anyone else you have hiding in there. And, finally, I'll kill Rick. But not until I show him a little taste of what I'll be doing with you." He unwrapped his hand from your shoulders and you breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Then he patted your leg, and left his hand high on your thigh instead. 

You shifted your leg uncomfortably, but he just squeezed. 

"Well, well, well. That's interesting," he said as he pulled up to the prison. "I thought Andrea said you'd fixed the gates." 

"She did," Shumpert confirmed. 

The Governor glanced at you. "You lured all these walkers in to slow us down, didn't you? Clever man, your friend Rick. But not clever enough." 

He leaned out of the window and whistled, signaling to the other five trucks waiting for him. Martinez nodded, stood up, and aimed a missile launcher at the guard tower by the open front gates. 

It went with a boom. 

Then the trucks were rolling through, and they were shooting up the guard towers and strafing the walkways and courtyard. One of the trucks ahead of you rolled over your hidden tire strips and you saw their tires pop. 

Then they set to work on the walkers. 

There were so many men, and they had so many guns, it didn't take long before the yard was covered in bodies. When the last of the walkers dropped, they poured out of their trucks. 

"All right!" the governor yelled. "That's what I'm talking about! Ok, sweetheart; let's go." 

He hopped to the ground, and held out a hand for you, but you stayed put. Shumpert watched from the other door, keeping you trapped between them. The Governor waited for a beat, hand outstretched. When you didn't move, he licked his lips and shrugged. Then he stepped back up onto the edge of the frame, reached in and grabbed you by the hair, and dragged you out and onto the ground. 

"Let's go!" He called to his people, then hauled you to your feet and pushed you in front of him. 

Shumpert came around and climbed into the driver's seat. He pulled the truck forward, and the crowd of men and women from Woodbury went in behind it. You saw Michonne, hands still tied, walking tall and proud with Martinez at her elbow. 

The truck crashed through the inner gate and rolled to a stop. They made quick work of clearing the courtyard, then ripped off the cage door to Cell Block C, and they were pouring into your home. 

The Governor left you and Michonne under Martinez' guard as he searched the cells. He came back out, holding Hershel's Bible and scowling. 

"Where are they?" he snarled, in your face. 

Michonne chuckled. 

He threw the Bible across the room as hard as he could. You flinched when it hit the wall and then the floor. 

"Where! Are! They!" he screamed. 

"I- I don't know!" you stammered, cringing back a little. 

He slapped you again, and you felt your cheek split. You reached up shaking fingers to your face and they came back slick with blood. 

"She doesn't know!" Michonne snapped, looking pissed. "This wasn't the plan!" 

"The plan?" he asked softly, dangerously, and Michonne clammed up. He got in her face, and raised his hand like he was going to slap her. 

She didn't flinch, just closed her eyes. He chuckled a little. 

"Ok. Ok," he said, turning away from her. You glanced at his people, and every one of them had their eyes averted. 

Cowards. 

He stepped back over to you, combing his fingers through your hair. "Shh, shhh," he said softly. "It's ok. Don't be scared." 

Your lips parted and trembled a little as he gripped your hair at the base of your neck and yanked again. 

"Tell me the plan," he snarled. 

"You- you were supposed to take Michonne," you blurted. "While you were distracted with picking her up, our people would come out of the woods and ambush you. We were going to grab you and then kill you, and take over Woodbury." 

He let go of your hair and patted your cheek. "Good try, sweetheart. Good try." 

Then you heard something clatter in the distance. 

He shot around, going to the darkened opening to the lower levels and back corridors. He looked through for a minute, then turned around. "Give me a flashlight," he snapped. As one of his people slapped one in his hand, he continued. 

"Let's split up. You take a group that way. Martinez, bring a group, follow me." 

"What about them?" Martinez said with a nod in your direction. 

"They're coming with us," the Governor said, and he pulled you against his side again. "They're our extra insurance." 

Then he pushed you into the dark.


	57. A Good Plan Has More Than One Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon-typical violence

The silence was oppressive. At every turn, he was stopping and listening for tiny sounds, whispers of movement you could barely hear. 

He lead you further and further into the depths of the prison. You were getting more and more tense, and looked for the mark on the walls as you went. 

Then you saw it.

You glanced at Michonne, and she glanced back at you. A twitch of the eyes, and you saw that she was ready. 

"Hey, kid- over there," the Governor whispered to one of his men, and the kid stepped between you and Michonne to go to the other side of the hall. 

Michonne took a small step back, putting her back to the wall, and twisting her wrists in their ropes. She slipped them easily, but kept her motions small, so no one noticed but you. 

The Governor still had you by the arm, and there was nothing you could do but brace yourself and hope for some sheer dumb luck. 

Then the flash-bang went off. 

 

Everyone was screaming; they were firing their guns; the alarm began blaring. The warning lights started flashing overhead, and people started running back the way you'd come. 

"Hold your ground!" the Governor was screaming, but he had lost control already. 

And then the walkers came. 

Fresh shrieks as walkers came from all directions except the way you had come, your group's careful preparations herding the invaders back out of your prison. 

The Governor had you by the arm still, and he jerked you away from the mess, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and putting his gun to your head. You'd lost track of Michonne in the chaos, but you knew she wouldn't be far away. 

They shot down the walkers, and then they were running, running out of the cell block and right into the trap you and Rick had carefully worked out for them. 

From out of nowhere, Maggie and Glenn and Carol came, like clockwork, in the riot gear you had raided from the walkers, shooting at everyone's feet and driving them back out of the prison and away. 

"Get the hell out of here!" you heard Glenn's yell. 

And it worked. 

Mostly. 

 

The problem was, not everyone was an untrained civilian. Most of his people were just Woodbury citizens, cannon fodder who had been living behind walls for so long they were soft, and they folded like a house of cards when the shooting started. 

But some of them had actual training, and they all banded together, around the Governor. And around you. 

They laid down cover fire, and moved like a unit, and then they were shoving you into a truck and racing away from the prison, and you were still with them. 

Well, fuck. 

 

The good news was, you'd planned for this too. It wasn't ideal, by any means, but the day's fun wasn't over yet. 

Panicked people did as panicked people do, and they drove straight out and on the most direct route toward Woodbury. 

So they drove straight into the phase three. 

 

The bus was across the entire road, and standing on top of it like the dramatic son of a bitch he is was Rick. 

You felt yourself grinning, despite the iron grip of the Governor's hand in your hair. 

The Governor's core group spilled out of the truck, and you went with them, pulled by the hair out of the truck and shoved down to the ground. 

You cried out a little as you hit the deck, the rib that hadn't healed all the way taking another knock. 

Behind you, you felt the rest of his people getting out of their cars more slowly. 

"Put your guns on the ground and your hands in the air!" Rick called. "And we won't hurt you. We know most of you think we're the bad guys. We're not." 

The Governor laughed. "They shot up our town!" 

"You kidnapped and tortured three of our own!" Rick shot back. "We came to get them. Now you've got one of my people at your feet, one of the ones we came to your town to retrieve. Wanna tell your people what you did to her while she was there the first time?" 

You heard the murmurs from the people behind you, but the Governor just pulled viciously on your hair until you staggered to your feet. 

Goddamn, that hurt. 

"We have the advantage, Rick. It doesn't matter what stories you tell. We can take you. Get out of our way," he sneered, and he put his gun to your head. 

Someone should have told you how tedious being the bait was. You were getting really tired of being threatened. 

Actually, you were just really tired.

Rick just nodded, tucking his thumbs into his belt. He wasn't even aiming the gun slung over his shoulder. "I thought that's what you'd do. You see now?" He called to the people behind you. "You see what he is? She's unarmed. I can see the blood on her cheek. And now he's got a gun to her head. You really wanna die for this man?" 

"How are you going to kill any of us?" The Governor shot back, and Rick smiled. 

Immediately, a crossbow bolt hit the ground, just shy of the Governor's boot. 

"You should never assume I'm alone," Rick said. 

That was all it took. You heard the sound of guns being dropped, and then you saw movement from the corner of your eye as Merle and Michonne came out of the woods, guns up and aimed at the Governor's group. Rick nodded at them, and Merle covered Michonne as she came in closer. 

You could hear her collecting weapons and quietly ordering people to back away from the Governor and his core few. A quick glance around, as much as you dared, showed that there were only three or four left with him, including Martinez and Shumpert. Martinez kept looking from you to Rick and back, and then his gaze tracked to something beyond you. 

"Put it down, Martinez. You ain't gonna win. You know he's wrong." 

Daryl. 

"I told you what he did to her," Daryl said quietly. "And I told you I'd kill him for it. You wanna get in my way? You wanna die, for him?" 

Martinez looked at you again, where you were held frozen in front of the Governor. 

"Don't you move, Martinez, or I'll feed you to the walkers when I'm done with these people," the Governor snarled at him. 

Martinez met your eyes, and you looked back with a smile. He shook his head a little, and dropped the gun, lacing his fingers behind his head and going to his knees.   
Shumpert and the others followed suit immediately. 

"You really do have some balls, girl," Martinez told you. 

The Governor growled in your ear, pressing the barrel of the gun hard into your temple. 

"Let me go, or I'll blow her pretty little face off, right here and right now," he snarled. 

Rick jumped down from the bus. "No," he said simply. "You won't." 

Daryl moved into view at Rick's side, and Merle closed in on his other side. Behind you, you heard Michonne snap a magazine into one of the Governor's assault rifles. 

He jerked back a little, and swung the gun away from your head to aim at Rick. "I said, let me go! I'll kill her, and your leader!" 

Daryl caught your eye, and you nodded.

He fired. 

 

The Governor screamed and let go of you and you whirled away instantly. You faced him and backed up, and then Daryl's arm was around you, pulling you back and behind him as you stared at the Governor and his people. 

All of his people were on their knees, fingers laced behind their heads, except him. He was standing where you'd left him, holding his hand in front of his face and staring at the crossbow bolt sticking through his gun hand. 

He looked up at Daryl and there was ice in his eyes. "You'll pay for this," he threatened. 

"No," you said, shaking your head. "You will. Daryl." 

Daryl lifted his crossbow again. 

"I thought you were the good guys!" the Governor snarled at Rick. "Are you going to let him kill me in cold blood?" 

"Yeah," Rick said, sniffing and nodding. He scuffed the toe of one boot against the ground, hooking his fingers through his belt again. "Yeah, I am." 

Daryl fired again. 

This time the bolt took the Governor in the shoulder, and he fell to his knees as he screamed. 

"Michonne," Rick said, nodding to the woods, and she traded her gun for her sword and took down the two walkers who had come to investigate the noise with one blow. 

Daryl set the tip of the crossbow on the ground and heaved the string back, setting another arrow in place. He brought it to his shoulder again, taking aim. 

You looked at the Governor, who snarled up at you and Daryl through one eye. You watched the blood slowly ooze from around the bolt in his shoulder, and drip onto the ground from the one in his hand. 

You glanced at Rick's face to one side of you, and to Merle's on the other. Rick looked cold and hard, and Merle was grinning cheerfully. 

You looked around at the faces of the Governor's people. Most of them looked shell shocked, but a few of them looked sick. 

Daryl fired again, and this one embedded itself in the Governor's thigh. He screamed again, and you saw people flinch in the crowd. 

You stepped forward as Daryl pulled a fourth bolt into place. You touched his arm. "That's enough, Dixon," you told him quietly. 

"No, it ain't," he muttered back. 

"Yes," you said gently. "It is. Come on, Daryl. Look around. It's one thing to kill him when he had a gun to my head. It's another to torture him. We're no better than he is if we keep this up." 

Rick and Merle were watching you now. Daryl finally met your eyes and nodded. "Fine. Your call." 

"Ok. Good. Come on, Rick, we have work to do," you said.


	58. Clean Up Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

You took everyone back to the prison, including the Governor. 

You loaded people onto the bus and into one of the trucks, with your people in each vehicle just to be safe. But no one gave you any trouble. 

You were sitting on the first row of the bus, against the window, with Daryl in between you and everyone else. He'd handed you one of the Woodbury people's guns without a word, and you had it leaning on your knees now. Rick drove, in the lead, with Michonne driving the truck and Merle covering her, just in case. 

The Governor was tied up and sitting on the bus floor, at Daryl's feet. You were pretty sure he wasn't going to make it. He was losing an awful lot of blood. 

You didn't really care. 

When you pulled up to the prison, you heard the low murmurs beginning from around you. The guard towers they had blown up were still billowing smoke, and would take a long time to rebuild. 

But there was already a burning pile of walker corpses, in the middle of the field, and Glenn- still in his riot gear- was sliding open the outer gate for you to pull through, and then sliding it closed behind you. At the upper gate, the inner guard tower remained standing, and you saw Carol still in her riot gear as well, standing watch for you. She tipped her gun twice, the signal for all's well, and you heard Rick's huff of air as he breathed out. 

Maggie met you as the bus cruised to a halt. "How'd it go?" she asked as the doors opened, and then she saw the Governor. 

She looked up at you and Daryl, and she smiled. "Well done, guys. Welcome home," she said simply, and stepped back. 

Rick hauled the Governor up by the back of his jacket and shoved him, staggering, down the steps. You and Daryl came next, Daryl ordering all the Woodbury people to hang tight for a minute. 

"We've got the second cell block cleaned out, just like we'd planned. The lower levels are all plugged, so the perimeter is secure. Carl and the others are back as well, and all's good with them too. Did everyone get searched?" her voice was brisk and efficient, and you were grinning. 

You couldn't believe it had worked. 

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Maggie, can you secure the garbage? Rick's gotta gather everyone together and give them the speech, then we'll take 'em into D block. Then we've still gotta go over to Woodbury and collect everyone from there." 

"Andrea," you remembered suddenly. " Fuck it. I forgot. He told me if she wasn't dead yet, she will be soon. Apparently she tried to warn us, and he locked her in where he held us with Head Nerd- Milton something- who had been stabbed. From the sounds of it, he wanted the guy to turn and attack her." 

"Shit," Rick snarled. "Ok, we need to move. Maggie, take him and lock him in one of the cells in C. Have Carl stand guard over him. Don't let Hershel treat him, either. He gets to suffer." 

"Tell everyone that if he turns, no one touches him. He's mine," you told her coldly. "And I need some gear." 

Maggie nodded and shoved the Governor away toward C block. Rick gestured to Michonne, and Daryl stuck his head on the bus to tell everyone they could come out. Once all the Governor's people were gathered in the courtyard, you, Rick, and Daryl stood up on one of the tables. 

"Welcome to the prison, everyone," Rick said to the crowd. "We told you if you laid down your weapons, you'd be welcome. We meant it. This can be the home of everyone who wants it to be. But," he said harshly. "There are rules. We don't have time to get into everything right now, because there's still work for us to get done. We're going to Woodbury. We know you have friends and family there still, and we have a friend being held there too. We're not going to hurt anyone. We're going to bring your families here." 

Rick looked around, meeting everyone's eyes, and you watched as tight faces relaxed as he spoke to them. 

"Over the next few days, we'll be speaking with you all," you continued the speech. "Rick is in charge. That's the most important thing you need to know. If you have any questions, ask one of our people. That's Rick, myself, Daryl, Michonne, and Merle, here right now. Glenn is at the outer gate. Carol's in the guard tower. Maggie met us here and took the Governor in for questioning. We have other people as well, and you'll meet them all soon enough. For now, we have a cell block cleared where we're going to take you. All of you are welcome here, but for our safety until we can all get to know one another better, you'll be locked into the cell block for the night." 

Daryl took up the speech. "We don't want any trouble from ya. You ain't prisoners. We just ain't all friends yet. Tomorrow morning, we'll start talkin' to everyone some more. The cell block is stocked with food and water. It's clean, and there are beds and blankets. This is the way it's gotta be for right now, but it ain't the way it's gonna be forever." 

Rick took back over, the three of you having discussed what points to make and who should say what. "Tomorrow, if anyone wants to leave and try to live elsewhere, we'll let you go. For tonight, we have to think of ourselves. Michonne and Merle will take you to D block now. We'll talk more tomorrow." 

People were glancing at each other, waiting for everyone else to react. Merle and Michonne were moving through the crowd, working their way to the front and asking questions. Maggie came jogging out of C block and nodded to Rick, who gestured her to the crowd. She flashed a thumbs up and joined Merle and Michonne, and at her urging the whole group finally started to shift. She tossed over your gun belt, quiver, and bow before she walked with the Woodbury people to D block.

There were the beginnings of smiles on people's faces as they went. 

One woman came out of the crowd toward where you stood with Daryl and Rick. 

"I need to talk to you three. Please," she said. 

Rick glanced at you and you nodded. "What's your name?" you asked her, taking a step toward her. 

"Karen," she said, and you held out your hand. 

"Nice to meet you, Karen. I'm YN," you said, and she took your hand cautiously. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and we want to answer them all, but we really are in a bit of a hurry." 

"I know. It's about Woodbury," she said. Rick and Daryl turned from where they'd been having a quiet discussion and were at your side in three steps. 

"What about Woodbury?" Rick said sharply. Karen took a slight step back, glancing at him warily. 

"Easy, Cowboy," you said under your breath, touching Rick's arm. He glanced at you and his jaw twitched. 

"Sorry," he said the woman. "We're all a little on edge still. What is it about Woodbury?" 

"I'd like to go with you," she said. 

Daryl scoffed and started to turn away, but you grabbed the sleeve of his vest and held him there. "Why?" you asked her, curiously. 

"We left some people behind to protect our families. They're good people, a brother and sister, who didn't want to fight people. They know me; if I go with you, they won't fight. They'll know it's ok." She met your eyes steadily. 

You nodded to her. "Give us a moment?" 

Rick moved to the side and gave you a hard look. 

"You wanna take someone else with us? You trust her?" 

You met his eyes. "Rick, I'm exhausted. I'm tired of fighting. If we can clear out Woodbury and get Barbie back without having to fight anyone else, I'll risk taking a stranger out there with us. She's one woman." 

Daryl snorted. "You're one woman, and you can fuck all kinds of shit up." 

You rolled your eyes to the sky, but you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. You noticed the semi-hysterical edge to it and tried to shut it down before one of your boys got the bright idea to try to leave you behind. 

"Thanks for that, Dixon, but does she really look like she's got my level of fuckitude?" You asked him. 

Rick shook his head at both of you. "All right. But you babysit her," he warned, and you nodded. 

"Fine with me. We taking anyone else, or just the three of us?" 

Rick hesitated. "We should take Michonne. She's Andrea's friend." 

"Yeah," you said softly. "That sounds good." 

You waved Michonne over as she, Maggie, and Merle came back from D block. "Wanna go rescue Barbie?" you asked her. 

She nodded grimly, and the tw of you headed onto the bus together. The boys were already there, and Daryl had scooped up Karen as well. Karen looked nervous as you and Michonne came on and Rick fired up the engine.

You flopped onto the seat beside Daryl, ignoring the way Karen watched all of you curiously, like she was trying to figure your group out. She was seated in the second seat back, where Rick could see her easily if he glanced over his shoulder. Michonne hadn't bothered to sit down, instead resting in a crouch on one knee beside Rick, with her hand on the back of his seat. You saw him grin and her his laugh mingle with hers. It made you smile.

You leaned into Daryl's side with a long sigh. He shifted until his back was pressed against the window, slid one leg along the bench seat, and pulled you in so your back was against his chest. Then he wrapped both arms around you and leaned his forehead into your shoulder. 

"Are you ok?" he whispered after a moment. "Don't- don't just say you're fine. Tell me the truth," he demanded. 

"Physically?" you said after a beat. "I'm tolerable. Ribs hurt. I went down on the broken one pretty hard when he pulled me from his truck that last time. He slapped me across the face a few times, too, so my cheek throbs. My scalp hurts all over. He was enjoying yankin' me around by the hair, apparently." 

His arms locked a little tighter around you as you listed injuries and you felt his rumbling growl against your shoulder. 

"But honestly, it could have been so much worse. Physically, I'll be fine with a few hours' sleep," you said with a shrug. 

He lifted his face from your shoulder and scooted a little so that you could look into his eyes. He raised one hand and ran his fingers gently over your cut and bruised cheek. "How about not physically?" he asked quietly. 

You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. "Mmm," you said. "Not great. Been worse, but... Been a hell of a lot better, too. I don't- I want to talk to you. But I can't do it here. We're not done yet, Dixon." You opened your eyes and smiled at him a little, and he nodded. 

"Aight. When we get home," he said, and rested his chin on your head. "Close your eyes for a bit. You're exhausted. I'll wake you when we get there." 

You snuggled into him and dropped off to sleep.


	59. It's Time For That Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion/memories of past rape/non con  
> trauma  
> cannon divergence  
> cannon-typical violence

It was dark when you made it to Woodbury. Rick parked the bus a bit from the gates, and you crept in on foot. The four of you worked as a one without any discussion, with Rick and Daryl in the lead, you and Michonne watching the rear, and Karen in the middle. 

You slipped around a gazebo, decorated with what looked like an entire store's worth of 4th of July banners when the first shot rang out. 

A decorative something or other exploded beside Rick in what was clearly a warning shot, but both Rick and Daryl had not had the best of days. 

Hell, for that matter, neither had you. 

But Rick and Daryl opened fire pretty much immediately, and then the five of you were ducking for cover behind a car. You wanted to remind Rick that you'd brought someone with you to prevent this from happening, but whoever was on the gate wasn't allowing much of a pause for you to work with. 

Karen took matters into her own hands. 

"Tyreese!" she yelled. "It's me. Don't-" 

"Get down!" Rick snapped, pulling her back behind the car as she stood up.

"Karen?" a voice called from the wall. "Karen, are you ok?" 

"I'm fine!" she shouted back, jerking away from Rick and standing so she was in plain sight, hands up. 

Well, it was an improvement to all the shooting, at least. 

"Where's the Governor?" Tyreese yelled. 

Karen hesitated. "He lost. And he was wrong. The rumors were true. He kidnapped some of Rick's people, hurt them, and that's why they came to Woodbury. Rick's offered to take everyone from Woodbury to the prison. Plus, he's looking for a friend of his that the Governor's holding." 

"We're coming out!" Rick yelled into the silence after that. 

"Rick, no!" Daryl snapped, but you touched his arm, shaking your head. 

Rick slung his gun back and stood from behind the car as well, hands raised. You followed immediately, keeping your gun down, but in your hands. You felt Daryl and Michonne do the same. 

The gates opened, and out walked Tyreese and a woman. 

Why did they look familiar? 

"Aw, hell," Daryl muttered. 

Tyreese walked up to Rick and stared at him. Rick stared back. 

You glanced at Daryl, then stepped up. "Hi, I'm YN. You must be Tyreese," you said, offering your hand. 

Tyreese turned to you and gave you a long once over, then took your hand. "I remember you. Man there with the crossbow carried you back into the cells, and the doctor went to treat you." 

Oh. Oh, shit. 

"You're the people Carl found," you said slowly. "Oh. Well, this is awkward. You arrived at the prison at a very, very bad time." 

Tyreese was looking between the four of you. "Were you one of the people Karen said he kidnapped?" 

"Yes," you answered simply. "We had just gotten back from here when you met Rick. It wasn't a very good time for any of us." 

Tyreese nodded slowly. You could tell he was trying to accept what you were saying; to change his impression of Rick to fit the people before him now. 

"The Governor said Andrea tried to warn us. She never made it. He said he's keeping her where he held my people," Rick told him urgently.

Tyreese regarded him for another minute. "Let's go," he said finally. 

 

You moved through Woodbury openly this time, guns down and talking softly with Tyreese and his sister, Sasha. Karen was filling them in on everything that had happened that day, and Rick and Tyreese were cautiously talking about bringing the people of Woodbury into the prison. 

Then you arrived at the shed where he'd held you. 

You froze. The air was ripped from your lungs and you couldn't- you couldn't- 

You'd been fine all along, knowing this was where you were going, but now? You were just done. 

You weren't even sure how you were still standing, and your fingers were locked around your gun and you couldn't get them to move either.

"The Governor held people here?" Tyreese said.

Hands on your skin, cold eyes, being shoved against a table-

Jesus, no. No. You couldn't lose it; not here; not like this. 

You were better than this, damn it. Come on. Come on, breathe! 

"He did more than hold them," Daryl snarled as they headed for the door. 

Glenn's primal scream when he beat the walker; Maggie's eyes, glassy and wide, tears streaming down her face; your fingers shaking hard as you tried to button Merle's shirt closed-

Son of a bitch!

You let them go, staying rooted to the spot.

You couldn't do anything. You tried. 

No one noticed as Rick opened the door and Tyreese led the way. Michonne, Sasha, and Karen ducked in behind Tyreese, and then Daryl turned to look for you.   
He saw you standing there, on the road, just looking up at the shed. 

When his eyes found you, you started to shake. The gun finally fell from your fingers, and quiet was filled the roar of your own blood in your veins.

Daryl's lips moved, but you couldn't hear him. He gestured Rick through the door, jerking his head back to you. You watched him sling his gun over his shoulder, and then he was leaping down the stairs and jogging to your side. 

He touched your face and spoke again; you could see his lips move, but you couldn't hear him. You couldn't focus on him, not with that door a black hole behind him, beckoning you into a host of things you'd be trying, desperately to forget.

A bag being thrown over your head, Maggie's face the last thing you saw as one came over her as well; Glenn telling you both to just look at him, just look at him-

"Hey. Hey. Come here. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot." Daryl's voice snapped into focus suddenly, as he pulled you against him and turned you with his body so you weren't facing the shed, staring into that darkness. "Jesus. I didn't even think. I'm sorry." 

You broke down. 

Your arms locked around him, clinging to his vest, and you sobbed into his chest. Everything you'd been holding, all the terror you'd been pushing down since the moment the Governor had walked into that room with you and Maggie, came crashing out of you in a wave of tears against Daryl's chest. 

Everything ached- your chest hurt like holy fire, lungs desperate for the air that couldn't get in through the iron you were slowly drowning in; your ribs ached from hitting the ground again and again and never letting them heal; your head throbbed from the force of the tears and the Governor's brutal grip on your hair-

His hand, caressing your cheek today, squeezing your thigh in the truck; fingers locked in your hair, pulling hard enough to rip it out if you hadn't moved with it; a hand on the back of your head, slamming your face into the table-

You hit the table over and over and over again, in your mind, Maggie's wide, horrified eyes in her pale face the only thing you could see, and his hand on the back of your head, forcing you down, down, down-

You were screaming into Daryl's chest, over and over, but you didn't have much air and your throat was so raw, anyway, you couldn't be sure how much sound was actually coming out. 

And he held on. God, he held on, just as tightly as you needed, holding you together when you shook so hard you would have rattled into a thousand pieces if his arms hadn't held you together; held all the pieces of you to yourself. 

He held you up, and kept your head just above the surface of the storm coursing through you. His voice in your ear, encouraging you to breathe, to let go, to let it all out, kept you from losing yourself in the tide.

Then, just as suddenly as it came on, it was over. 

You were empty and sick and exhausted, and you turned in his arms and emptied the contents of your stomach on the ground beside you. Daryl rubbed your back gently, still talking to you in that low, soothing tone that had gotten you through countless nightmares and quite a few panic attacks now. 

But nothing this bad. 

Hell, you didn't think you'd fallen apart that badly ever. Not even the night after you'd stabbed your ex and ran from a walker for the first time.

"That's it, darlin', I've got you. It's ok. You can fall apart now; it's over. I've got you. I love ya. I ain't goin' anywhere," he was whispering to you, a steady, solid refrain, as you sagged back into his arms. Your back was against his chest now, and his arm around you was the only thing keeping you from sliding bonelessly to ground. 

You were pretty sure if you hit the ground, you'd never get up.

"I can't go in there," you finally whispered. "I can't- I thought I'd be fine. But-" You were still trembling, your whole body vibrating against him, but as you thought about walking into that black hole, you shook harder and retched again. 

"I know. It's ok. Nobody's askin' you to," he growled in your ear. "I shoulda thought of it before we left. I'm so sorry, woman. I'm so sorry." 

You fumbled for his hand and he gave it to you, wrapping your frozen fingers in his warm ones. That tiny touch of heat seeped into your blood and started to make its way to your numbed mind. 

"Don't. It's fine. I just- Daryl, please. Can you take me home? I know there's stuff to do still, but they've got cars here. Please."

He pressed a kiss to your head. "Yeah. Hold on a minute." He let you go and turned to the shed, and you heard the door open. You stayed standing where Daryl had left you, arms wrapped around yourself, refusing to turn back to that shed. 

You didn't think you'd come back to yourself if you looked at that shed again. 

But you listened to him talking to Rick and Tyreese. 

"Andrea's bit. Michonne's handling it," Rick started. "YN ok?"

God, Michonne. That was awful. Even if you'd hated her, you wouldn't have wished dying like that, in that shed, on Apocalypse Barbie. 

On Andrea, you corrected. You honored the dead.

"Naw, Rick, she's not ok. What were we thinkin' bringin' her here? I'm takin' her home." Daryl's voice was pitched low, but you could still hear him, and you heard the anger and the worry in his tone. "Rick, she said 'please'. Twice. After she damn near shattered she was shakin' so hard. I've never seen her like that, never." There was a raw edge, a wild fear in Daryl's voice, and you added a heap of guilt for scaring him onto your self-hatred for your weakness. 

"Oh my god, I never even thought- yeah, hang on. Tyreese, does this place have any cars? Daryl and YN need to get back to the prison. She can't- we never should have let her talk us into comin' here. Not after everything else today." Then Rick pitched his voice even lower, and you knew he was explaining to Tyreese what had happened to you. 

After a moment, Daryl was back to your side. "Come on, woman. Got us a car, just up here. Let's get you home."

You nodded, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, holding all the pieces of you together since he couldn't right then. 

You just had to hope they'd reattach and reform you if you kept them together long enough. 

 

Daryl took you straight to the guard tower. He sat you down, put a bottle of water in your hand, and told you to drink. He disappeared down the steps, but he wasn't gone long before he was back with Carl behind him. Carl carried your bags, yours and Daryl's, and Daryl carried one of the mattresses from your cell. 

Shit, Carl. He'd been so scared and angry, and you'd promised him you'd be ok. He didn't need to see you breaking apart like this. You scrubbed a hand over your face and tried for a smile, but you knew it wasn't working.

"Hey, Grimes," you managed, trying to blink back the tears that were somehow still falling, even now. You pulled yourself to your feet and went toward Carl. 

Your bags hit the floor and he was clinging to you without a word, and you hated that he could feel the tremble you still hadn't been able to stop. 

God, you hated being weak.

"I'm ok," you whispered to him, not trusting your voice not to break if you spoke any louder. "I told you I'd come back." 

"Yeah," Carl said finally. "You're not ok though. But you will be." 

He stepped back and you saw tear tracks on his cheeks, but that his eyes were clear. He gave you a long, assessing look, nodding when you tried to give him another poor attempt at a smile.

"Just stop, YN. I don't need you to reassure me. You're back, and you're gonna be fine," he said, sounding more adult than he ever had before. "He's dead, by the way. He hasn't turned yet, but we're watching him for you. When you're ready," he continued, and there was that same edge to his voice that you'd been hearing from so many of your family these days.

You should have been happy about that. Really, you were glad he was dead, and for a moment you allowed yourself to imagine sliding your knife into the base of his skull and watching the reanimated life drain from his eyes. 

But you were just so goddamn tired. 

You shook your head, slowly. "No. Just- just get someone to handle it, ok? I don't want to. Not anymore. It's over."

Carl looked at you seriously for a moment before nodding. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry." 

He hugged you again before slipping down the stairs and leaving you and Daryl alone. 

Daryl had tossed the mattress into one corner, and he dropped a blanket around your shoulders before tossing a couple more onto the bed. "Come on, woman," he said, giving you a tug. "Don't think about it now. Just come lay down. Rest." 

So you did. 

 

Rick and the others brought back the people from Woodbury the next morning. You leaned against the railing of the guard tower, Daryl wrapped around you, and watched as the bus drove up in the bright sun. You watched as the people were unloaded, the old and the young, and Tyreese, Sasha, Michonne, and Rick helped them with smiles and gentle hands. 

You saw your cell block empty as your friends came out, including Beth with Judith in her arms. You watched Merle jog over to unlock D block, and the Woodbury people coming to meet their friends and yours, mingling together. You watched the beginning of your groups becoming one. 

You saw Martinez walk over to Merle and offer his hand, and Merle taking it slowly. They spoke for a few minutes, and then Merle's raucous laugh lifted above the general hum of voices. 

You saw Tyreese walk over to Carl, and they way Carl smiled at him warmed you almost as much as the way Tyreese shook Carl's hand the same way he had Rick's.

You saw Karen and Sasha standing with Carol and a group of other women, and Carol was nodding and gesturing to things all around. People were smiling and happy, and your friends were moving among them. Martinez and Merle walked over to Rick, and you could tell what they were having a serious conversation, but Rick's stance was open and relaxed, and he glanced up at the two of you for a moment and smiled. Then he turned back to Martinez and nodded, slapping him on the shoulder before taking the arm of an older lady and escorting her slowly toward D block.

"It's the start," Daryl said quietly. "Ya wanna go down there?" 

Oh God no. You were still raw and empty inside, and at the thought of being in that sea of people; being surrounded with all the worry and gratitude and questions you knew would be coming- 

Ugh. Not yet. People- even if they were your people- sounded like too damn much.

"No," you said slowly, leaning into him. "Not yet. It's been.... God, it's been a few days. Weeks. Months, even. Can we just- just for now, just for today, can we not do what we're supposed to do? Can we just stay up here, and letting everyone else handle everything for a change?"

You tipped your head up to look at him, and he smiled down at you. 

"I'd like to see someone try to stop us," he said quietly. Then he kissed you, and the sunlight was warm on your face, and you knew eventually, you'd be ok.


	60. All Good Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of rape/non con  
> discussion of past abuse  
> discussion of past trauma  
> cannon divergence

They gave you two full days before they drug you out of the guard tower with problems. 

You and Daryl used every bit of those two days. 

You spent the first talking, about anything and everything; all the things you'd been too busy running from one disaster to the next to talk about. You talked about your ex, about the Governor, about your panic attacks. You told him about your parents and how you didn't know if they were alive. You talked about the group you'd been with before and how they had died. 

You had a few breakdowns, and he held you through them.

He talked about the moment Michonne had told him you'd been captured. He talked about following you while the Governor had you; about putting those arrows into him and how he would have done even more if you hadn't stopped him. He talked about his family, how his mom died when he was young and how his dad was mean drunk. He talked about Merle, and losing Merle, and finding Merle, and how Merle was different now. 

He had a few breakdowns too, and you held him through them. 

You discovered that caring for someone made you feel better as well as them. When they weren't being stubborn and assholish about it. 

You resolved to stop being an asshole when he tried to take care of you. 

You talked about everything. And by the time the sun set, you were better. 

Everything wasn't just gone. You knew that. He woke you up from nightmares each night, would for a long time to come- maybe even forever. And they were more vivid and horrifying than they'd ever been, filled with things from before the world ended and after. But you could handle them, and he would help. 

The second day, you didn't talk much at all. 

You woke up with your head on his chest, and you just looked at him in the morning sun for a long time. You studied the way his hair fell, the lines around his mouth, and the perpetual stubble on his jaw. You studied the cracks in his lips, and when you'd studied as much as you could, you leaned over him and pressed your lips to his. 

He woke up slowly, and you used that shamelessly, gliding your hands over his body and your lips over his face. Finally he woke up completely, and when you kissed him again, he kissed you back, hungrily, and his arm came around you and he rolled you over, pressing you down into the mattress with a greedy little groan. 

He'd pulled back, looking at you closely, studying your eyes and your smile and making sure. 

He was so damn good at making sure, and it just made you want him more.

When you murmured something to him that must have been enough of a yes, he leaned back in to take your mouth with the desperation of a man who'd been holding food in his hand while starving, but not allowing himself to eat. You answered him with equal strength, and neither of you said anything for a long time- at least not with words. 

You said a lot with hands and mouths and bodies, and another piece of you reattached and healed.

 

The morning of the third day, you were back at the railing watching the sunrise, and staring out into the fields, and you knew it was time. But you waited, wanting more than anything to stay up here in your safe haven, with him, existing outside of time and place and responsibility.

When he came out of the door, his pants unbuttoned and riding low, shirtless in the morning sun and looking at you with that tiny smile that said 'I can't believe you're mine' more genuinely than words could have, you felt something, some final piece of your battered soul slide into place. 

"Mornin', Dixon," you drawled at him with a smile, and he stalked forward, caging you against the railing, gripping it to either side of your hips. 

"Why ain't you in bed with me, woman?" he asked, and your smile stretched even wider. 

"Because we've been hiding up here long enough," you admitted, and he growled at you. 

"It's been two damn days." 

"Exactly," you argued. "When have these people ever been able to go two days without a crisis they needed us to solve? I guarantee you, before two more hours have passed, someone's going to be coming up those stairs and knocking on our door." 

"Shit. It'll probably be Merle." Daryl's lips twitched. "He always knows how to ruin a good time." 

You laughed at that, and he leaned in and kissed your neck, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him. 

"Two more hours is plenty of time," he whispered in your ear, and you chuckled into his neck, sliding your hands up his arms and to his shoulders. 

"Too late, Dixon," you whispered back, seeing Rick come out of C block and striding toward the guard tower with a determined step. 

Daryl groaned and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, and you curled your fingers in his hair. Rick reached the steps of the tower, looked up, and saw you. You waved him up, and he came through the door with an apology already on his lips. 

"It's fine, Cowboy," you said before he could speak. "We understand." 

"Speak for yourself," Daryl muttered, but he turned around and leaned back on the railing in a mirror of your pose. "What's gone wrong now?" 

"Nothing," Rick said, his lips twitching at the two of you. "You both look.... better. I'm glad. Hate to break up your little vacation here, but we're low on some supplies. Tyreese says there's more at Woodbury, but we're gonna go through that pretty quickly." 

"Sustainability," you put in. "It's time to start really looking ahead, Rick. I've got ideas." 

He smiled at you. "I know. Ready to put them into practice?" 

You grinned. "Let's get to work."


	61. The Dixon Brothers Are Definitely Up To Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon-typical violence  
> brief mentions of past abuse/flash backs

Six months later, you were in the same place, looking over the same view in the morning sun. But everything was different. 

From your tower perch, you could see Rick's crops. You'd brought him and Hershel back seeds of all kinds from the store you'd found before you even knew Woodbury existed. Rick had taken to farming like a duck to water, in a move that surprised you all- maybe him more than anyone else. He spent hours every day in the yard, working with the soil and drowning out the constant sounds of the walkers with music from a Walkman someone had found and fixed up. 

He'd built a pigpen, too, and you and Daryl and Merle had found him pigs running in the forest. You'd found your rain barrels, and build more covered shelters in the yard, making an outdoor kitchen to feed all the people. 

And there were so many people. 

It was maybe the biggest change of all. It had started out slowly, with you and Rick and Daryl bringing people in a bit at a time, as you found them on runs. Groups of two or three or five, exhausted and hungry and dirty. You'd watched as hope dawned in their eyes when you told them there was a place, a safe place, and they were welcome. 

You asked them questions before you let them in, but only three; the same three you'd asked every member of Woodbury- all of whom had wanted to stay. The same three questions that Rick told you privately he had been asked on the phone by his dead wife and friends while he was on his trip to Crazytown. You'd had a long laugh over that one, but hey, whatever worked. 

How many walkers have you killed? 

How many people have you killed? 

Why? 

You never failed to answer the questions yourself as you asked them. 

Too many to count.   
Three.   
Because I had to survive.

 

Sure as clockwork, Rick came out of the C block a moment later. He waved up to you, and you waved back as he pulled on his gloves and headed out to check on his plants. 

He craved sustainability as much as you did now. He'd been swayed, it seemed, by your talk of reestablishing society on a picturesque farm sometime around two years ago. 

Had it really been that long? 

The door opened behind you and you smiled in anticipation. Then it came: the arm around your waist, pulling you in tight; the kiss on your hair; and your favorite part- 

"Mornin', woman," Daryl drawled sleepily in your ear, and you let out a happy little sigh. 

"Mornin', Dixon," you replied, leaning into his shoulder. 

"Why aren't you in bed with me still?" He asked, looking out at the morning and sipping from a bottle of water, propping one foot on the rungs of the railing. Every morning, for six months, he'd been asking you the same question, either here in this spot or out on the road. 

You never got tired of being wanted like this. It wasn't just sex, though you'd been delighted to discover that you craved him as much as he craved you. 

You'd been worried that you'd end up broken after all, after the Governor and your ex. But while there'd been bad moments between you- times when he did something and you'd flashed back to the hard table under you, and you'd shove him away shaking and sweating- those moments never had a lasting effect. He'd hold you, and you'd talk it out, and you'd know a little better what not to do next time.

But it wasn't just that he craved your body; it was the way he wanted your presence. When you were apart for more than a night, he'd whisper how he'd missed you laying against him in your ear when you were finally together again, admitting without shame how he needed you in his arms to sleep well, and needed you by his side to feel whole. He'd tell you how, when you weren't with him (because you couldn't be together all the time, and the two of you were secure enough people not to try), he'd turn to tell you something, or would be waiting for you to crack a joke or come out with a crazy nickname for someone he'd met. 

That kind of craving, that kind of being wanted for just your presence, was intoxicating. 

"Got a full day today," you answered. He handed you the water as Carol came out of C block next, heading into the outdoor kitchen and stoking the coals up to get breakfast started. 

Daryl grunted at you, laying his cheek on your hair. "We could just play hooky." 

You snorted. "We're both on the council. We're going out on a run. Merle would crash the tower and drag us out, and on the list of things I do not want, the one at the top is your brother interrupting us during sex. It was bad enough when Rick did that one time," you told him with a laugh. 

"Shit," he chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Guess we've gotta go down there, then, and get to it." 

"Mmmm," you wrapped your arm over his, twining your fingers together against your side. "In a minute." 

 

Rick had surrendered leadership of the group a couple of months ago, to a council of people he'd selected.

Which kind of made you wonder whether he'd truly given up the role. 

You, Daryl, Carol, Sasha, Hershel, Glenn, and to everyone's immense surprise, Merle Dixon, were now the ones in charge. You met to make the big decisions, and handled day to day details of managing a group as large as the prison was becoming by relying on everyone's individual skill sets. Your every third day meetings tended to be quick check ins to report solutions to problems found or pass on issues from one member to another. Today was no different, and you were out on the road in no time. 

Merle had found himself another motorcycle within a week of the Governor's death. Now he and Daryl were roaring side by side down the road, and you were behind Daryl with your chin on his shoulder. He was relaxed and grinning and so were you. 

You were looking for supplies, people, and walkers. There'd been a report of a herd moving the prison's way, and you three were sent to scout- that had been stressed to you by the overprotective Carol and Glenn; just to scout- it out and see what needed to be done. 

You were pretty sure all that would need to be done was for you three to find it and eliminate it. You'd done it before. 

You and the Dixon boys were pretty much an unstoppable team. 

Merle had been getting steadily better as the months went by. He was still a loud, redneck asshole, but the emphasis these days was a lot less on the asshole. He took to leadership, real leadership, well. People still liked Daryl more, but he was ok with that. He didn't need a lot of friends, not when he had you and Daryl and Carl. What he did need was to contribute, and to be responsible for people who needed him so that he didn't slide backward into the asshole who didn't give a shit. Merle had demons of his own, from before the dead and after, but he was working through them, same as all of you.

Carl was growing too. Rick had convinced him to leave off wearing his gun everywhere, and was teaching him about farming. Carl was reading the comics Michonne brought in constantly for him, and even hanging out with some of the other kids. He still seemed so much older than he was because of the things he had seen; so much older than even the kids he hung out with who had more years than him, but it was nice to see him sometimes allow himself to be a kid. 

You were happy. All of you were happy. It was a novel concept for you, one you'd never experienced in your adult life before the world ended. It kind of blew your mind sometimes. 

Like now, as the Dixon boys rolled to a stop and cut the engines, the three of you moving like the practiced team you were to drop the handful of walkers milling along the stretch of highway you wanted to search. It made no sense that ducking undead arms and sinking your machete into a walker's skull should make you happy, but as you drew your blade out from the base of the skull of one who tried to sneak up behind Merle, tossing an insult over your shoulder as you spun away to the next one, you were about as happy as you'd ever been. 

Maybe as happy as you'd ever be. 

"Hey look, girlie!" Merle called when the walkers were all down. You turned and laughed as he gestured to the sign on the window of one of the stores. Pawn Shop. 

"You're an ass, Merle!" you called back, and he grinned. You and Daryl fell into step, heading toward him, and Daryl rolled his eyes to you as Merle ran his mouth about your first meeting. 

You cleared the store together, back to back with both of them, switching up roles between you easily. First Merle would lead, and you'd be covering their backs, then you'd move to the next room and you'd be on point, Daryl reaching a hand to tap the back of yours, letting you know he had your exit covered. Merle would be at your shoulder, then you'd both be dropping back to follow Daryl's tattered angel wings down a hallway, until the building was clear and you were all relaxed and smiling once again. 

You headed over to the gun cage, this store much less picked over than the one you'd met Merle in. You picked up some handguns, quite a few boxes of ammo, a couple of overly-decorative hunting knives, and then you turned and there it was. 

A sword, like Michonne's. 

It was purely decorative and the blade was dull, but you gave it a few swings and it felt good in your hand. 

Just wait until the others saw this.

"Hey, boys," you called as you headed back to the front room. You came around the corner and they were springing apart, looking vaguely guilty and not at all nonchalant like they were aiming for. Merle propped himself on his elbow on a display, crossing his ankle and giving you the shit-eating grin that usually meant he was about to say something particularly offensive, and Daryl wandered a few steps to pretend to study something on one of the shelves. 

Since it was an electric teakettle, you weren't fooled for a second. 

You gave them a long look. "Ok, I don't wanna know, do I? Whatever. Check this out!"

You tossed the sword to Merle, who snatched it out of the air easily. He looked it over with a grin, then swung it a few times like you had. 

"Think Samurai needs an extra?" you asked. 

"I think if she doesn't, you might be pickin' up a new skill, little sister," Merle teased, tossing it back to you. 

"I got all the good stuff from the weapon displays. What else do we need in here? Should we bring Carol a wafflemaker?" You asked with a grin, reaching up to take down a fancy-looking machine. 

Daryl snorted. "That ain't goin' on my bike," he told you. "Put it back. We got some stuff from up here, a couple baseball bats, some little shit. Probably nothin' anybody really needs. Let's keep goin'. We're supposed to get back before dark. Still gotta see if we can find that herd everyone's having a bitch fit over." 

You gave him a look, certain he and Merle had been up to something, but decided to let them have their little secrets.

Trust was an interesting thing, and you wondered if you were going to regret not pushing. Last time they'd been like this, you'd gotten back home and had Glenn storming up to yell at you about keeping them in line and not letting them pull stupid pranks. Turned out, they'd found a collection of rubber snakes and hidden them all over the bathrooms and C block, scaring the holy hell out of nearly everyone. 

Glenn had not been amused when you'd cracked up, and you'd had to work hard to convince him you'd take care of it. 

Oh well, whatever it was, they could deal with the consequences this time. You'd sick Carol on them if they stirred up trouble.

The three of you headed out the door.


	62. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon-typical violence

You watched the sun come up in your usual spot the next morning. Rick came out, splashed water on his face, and waved to you before heading down to his field and his pigs. 

You really needed to find that man the chickens he'd been hinting for. And you still wanted a goat. 

You really missed cheese. 

You heard the door and waited, but the familiar arm wrapping around you didn't come. You glanced over your shoulder and then turned all the way around when you realized he was just standing in the doorway of the tower room, watching you with that little smile.

You loved this man so much. 

"Good mornin', Dixon," you said. "What are you all the way over there for?" 

"Mornin', woman." He studied you, his hands in his pockets, and you felt yourself starting to blush a little. "Just lookin' at you. Why ain't you in bed with me still?" he asked, and you let out a laugh. 

"Come over here and ask me that. You might convince me to get back in bed," you teased. 

He shook his head at you a little. "Cain't refuse an offer like that," he said and moved over to you. 

He stopped just in front of you, though, and reached up to brush your hair out of your eyes, hooking it behind your ear. Then he trailed his fingers down your cheek to brush lightly over your lips. 

"You're beautiful," he whispered, and you shivered a little at his touch. 

"What's gotten into you this morning, Dixon?" you asked breathlessly, and he shrugged. 

"Nothin'," he said, cupping his hand around your cheek and pressing a kiss to your mouth. He just rested his lips against yours for a minute before pulling back a little with a soft smile. "Just happy, I guess." 

He spun you around, pulling you back against his chest. You looked out over the prison together in easy silence. You were watching Rick weeding his garden and checking his plants carefully; Carl trudging down to help his dad and looking like he'd been up half the night with his comics again. You had just turned you attention to the walkers building up on one side of the fence, and were making a note to assign an extra pair of hands to the fence team clear them off, when Daryl nudged your shoulder with his chin. 

You focused back on him. "Sorry, I was thinking. Did you say something?" you asked him, leaning back into him a little more in apology. 

"Naw," he said. "Just felt you thinkin'. Wanted you to stop." 

"Oh yeah?" you teased. "Why, you planning on askin' me to go back to bed with you?" 

"No, that's not what I wanna ask you, woman," he said after a pause. 

"Hmm? Then what?" you asked curiously, eyes still roaming the prison yard. 

Then he was holding a ring up in front of your eyes.

"Marry me?" he whispered into your ear. 

 

Your brain short circuited and your breath hitched, the sun glinting off the little circle of metal in front of your eyes. You spun around to look at him, and he was grinning at you. 

"Are you serious, Dixon?" You whispered, and he laughed. 

"Say yes and find out." There was a dare in his eyes and a challenge in his voice, like he knew what you'd say and hadn't really needed to ask, and you started laughing too, and flung yourself into his arms. 

You kissed him, hard, and he held you tight and kissed you back, and you whispered 'yes' against his lips about a thousand times. 

 

Rick and Carl were staring up at you when you started laughing, and they started cheering wildly when Daryl caught your hand and slipped the ring over your finger. You looked out over the field to them with a grin and waved your arms wildly to convey your excitement. 

"Did they know?" you demanded to Daryl, who was leaning in the doorway again, shaking his head as he watched you with a lazy, satisfied smile. 

"Naw. Only person I told was Merle. Needed his help to find the right thing," he said with a nod at your hand, and you finally focused on the ring he'd put on your finger. 

It was an anniversary band, you thought it was called; with a row of square cut diamonds set flush into the band itself. 

"It won't get caught in walker guts," you whispered, looking back up at Daryl and grinning like a fool. 

He shrugged. "I know ya, woman. Won't sit around and let me take care of ya all the time, so you needed something that won't slow you up or get you in trouble in the middle of a fight." 

You leaned into him and kissed him again. "I never told you, but when Merle grabbed me in that pawn shop? I'd damn near gotten myself taken out by a walker because I'd been distracted by a ring display. I was thinkin' about how I didn't need any kind of rings or ceremony or anything like that to be happy, and how those big engagement rings wouldn't work for my lifestyle anyway. It's too funny that you had the same- oh!" You broke off abruptly as it hit you. 

"Yesterday, in the pawn shop! This is why you two were acting sketchy!" You pointed at him dramatically and he chuckled. 

"I thought you'd figured it out. You didn't say anything though, and Merle convinced me you hadn't noticed," he shrugged. "Guess he was right." 

You snorted. "I thought you were plannin' another rubber-snakes-in-the-bathroom incident, and I'd already decided I wasn't dealin' with it if you did." 

You were grinning at each other again as Carol came outside and moved into the outdoor kitchen. People started to drift from the other cell blocks, the prison waking up and starting to move around. When Merle came out of C block and immediately looked up at the tower searching for the two of you, you gave Daryl a push. 

"Come on, Dixon. Your brother's lookin' for you, and Rick's been holdin' Grimes back from crashing the party for awhile now. Let's go spread the news." 

Daryl groaned, but didn't resist as you took his hand and headed for the stairs. 

 

Carl practically tackled you the minute you got down the steps, and Rick and Merle weren't much better. Everyone you knew (and quite a few people you didn't really, but who knew the two of you) wanted to congratulate you, hug you, or shake your hand. You were inundated with questions and opinions and squeals of delight until you were ready to poke your own eyes out with a fork to get away from it all. 

And sometime during it all, Daryl and Merle had run away, because you looked around and didn't see them anywhere. 

Bastards.

You slipped away to check the fences just to get a damn break from the press of people, and found yourself wandering aimlessly. You held one of the sharpened crowbars the fence crews kept liberally stashed in buckets around the prison, and you were killing walkers mindlessly as you went, but you weren't really focused on anything. Your teams had cleared the whole prison of walkers, spending weeks removing the rubble from the fences on the front side and repairing the fences there. You'd needed all of the space, with so many people to house and so many plans for the place.

Then Maggie, Beth, and Carol corned you. 

"Ok, come with us," Maggie ordered, and you allowed yourself to be dragged into C block. There you were handed a bottle of water and pushed down to sit at one of the tables, and Carol produced a notepad and a pen from somewhere. 

"Let's talk wedding," Carol declared with a grin. 

"Oh, no, no, no," you protested, starting to get up, but Maggie grabbed your hand and held you there. "Daryl and I haven't even talked about it yet! I'd bet anything he doesn't want to make a big deal of it any more than I do!" 

"Ha!" Maggie said, pointing at you triumphantly. "That's what I said, and you people overruled me. It's my turn!" 

Oh God. She had that gleam in her eye. 

There was no getting out of this one. 

 

They arranged it all for the next day, including informing Daryl- who you were told had just laughed and said whatever they wanted. You had pretty much been told to sit there and shut up when they asked if you had any requests for your bouquet. 

Apparently 'just give me some arrows' was not a good answer. 

You didn't really mind all that much, though, you realized when they stormed the guard tower before dawn and dragged you off to C block to get ready. Daryl had grumbled at the intrusion, but was already rolling over and going back to sleep before you'd even left. 

Lucky bastard. 

"Don't worry; Rick's in charge of getting him ready," Maggie said as you went down the stairs. 

Oh. Maybe not so lucky after all then, you thought with a grin. 

You were shoved into the shower and told to get 'all' the walker blood off. You might have resented that more if you weren't pretty much always finding the stuff somewhere on you, even when you'd just showered and hadn't even seen a walker yet since then. 

The fact that you were just used to it said a lot. You didn't know what it said, exactly, but it was a lot.

After you were declared clean enough, they attacked your hair and wardrobe, holding up a few options they had raided from everyone else's clothing stores. 

"I wish we'd had time to go out on a run. We could have found you something amazing," Maggie fussed as she did something complicated to your hair. 

It had grown out a lot since you'd hacked it off, and you'd gotten around to having it evened out shortly after the Woodbury people joined you, but it didn't have the length that it had before. You didn't know how Maggie had done it, but when she held up the broken piece of mirror for you to look at her handiwork, she'd drawn the upper layer of your hair into six small braids and weaved those small braids together into a bigger braid. It looked amazing, and like you had about five times as much hair as you actually did. 

"Maggie, this is incredible! You've already done enough. No need to risk a run just to fuss over clothes," you told her, eyeing the sundresses they'd scavenged from everyone else. 

You weren't really sure you wanted to wear those, but you knew better than to protest. They were going to complain when you put your gun belt over whatever they forced you into; no need to fight a battle you didn't think you'd win. 

"Oh, come on," Carol put in, digging around in a bag. "Got it! It's your wedding. You deserve a fuss." 

Then she held out an unopened package of mascara with a triumphant. You stared from it to her, mouth open. 

"Carol, are you shittin' me?" you said, laughing. The idea of makeup was about as foreign to you these days as the idea of going to school or working a job. That was nonsense from before, and you hadn't really been into it then either. Why in the world did she even have that?

She shrugged. "I've had it since the beginning. I'd just bought it to replace my old one and dropped it into my purse. Then the world fell apart and somehow, here it is, still unopened. I found it when we were unpacking after driving the Governor out, or I'd have given it to you for your wedding, Maggie," she added. 

Maggie just shook her head. "That's perfect. Go on, put it on her." 

Carol ripped open the package and applied the mascara to your eyelashes with a practiced hand. "Apparently it's like riding a bike," she muttered. 

The sound of purely female laughter surrounded you, and now you were really glad they had made all this fuss; if not for you and Daryl, then for each of them. They were all having so much fun, and you were glad you could provide it for them. 

There was a knock outside the cell door, and Beth stuck her head out of the curtain. She gasped and pulled Michonne excitedly into the room. "You're here!" she squealed, and you looked at her suspiciously. 

"Hey, Samurai," you said easily. "Come to join the hen party?" 

She smiled back. "I found something for you. I just got back a few minutes ago. Beth sent me on a top secret supply run." 

You shot Beth a look, then frowned at Michonne. "You shouldn't have come back in the dark; you should have waited until morning." 

Beth was bouncing on her toes and Michonne was pulling her pack off her back. "It couldn't wait. I could only find one that wasn't covered in dirt or walker guts," she added. "So I hope you like it, and that it fits." 

When she pulled a dress out of the bag, Maggie let out a cheer. You looked from it to Michonne and shook your head in awe. 

"You should not have risked travelling at night for this, Michonne," you whispered, but you took the dress from her. 

It was simple, just a long, fitted flow of white silk with thin straps and a scoop neckline, but it moved like water when they pulled it over your head. 

You admired it for a moment before you wrapped your gun belt around your hips, with your handgun and knife already in place. You shrugged at their faces.

"I'm not goin' unarmed, no matter how much you threaten me."

Beth and Maggie sighed, but Michonne pronounced it perfect. 

"Not quite," Carol disagreed, and she reached under the bed and pulled out a bouquet, and you were laughing again. 

It was was small, just two of Daryl's crossbow arrows and a few wildflowers, tied together with a long strip of twine; but she was right: it made it perfect. 

"Come on, it's time," Maggie said, looking out the window as the grey of predawn started to change to sunrise color. 

 

They held a sheet up in front of you as you walked from the cell block, using it to cover your view of everyone and everyone's view of you until you were in the right place for their big reveal. You walked down the road to the yard behind that sheet, getting more and more impatient. 

You were ready to be married to Daryl, already. 

Beth ran off ahead of you, and then you heard her start singing some sweet song with her pretty voice and it hit you all the sudden that they had gone full out. These women, your family, had gone full tilt to give you and Daryl something special, and you loved them for it fiercely. 

"Ready?" Maggie whispered, and you nodded yes, and they dropped the sheet and pushed you forward, and you were floored again by what they'd done. 

Gathered around the fence, far enough back for the walkers to not take over the whole show, the entire prison community was standing and waiting for you. They'd roped off an aisle with stakes and twine, and Carl was standing at your end of it, there to offer you his arm with a grin. 

You took it, feeling yourself beaming at him and everyone else, and let him escort you down that aisle. 

You went laughing, because waiting for you at the end of the line was a nervous, besotted-looking Daryl Dixon. 

He was so utterly himself, with his crossbow slung over his back and his battered leather vest, but you could tell someone had forced him into the showers too, and why was it you were focused on how clean you all were at these things? 

Oh God, you were so happy. Everything was perfect. 

Rick stood at Daryl's shoulder, smiling out at you, and Michonne was standing back a bit on what would be your side, if you ever made it there, and you would have run if Carl hadn't been setting the pace for you.

Then Carl was giving you a silly bow and everyone was laughing; and Daryl was taking your hands and you were turning and looking at Merle fuckin' Dixon's shit-eating grin as the sun came up behind you and covered everything in brilliant light. 

Then everyone was cheering and laughing as Merle declared that "by the power invested in me by some website before the biters started eatin' people, and by my own damn self, I pronounce you husband and wife. Now kiss that woman, baby brother!"

And then Daryl did, and it was so damn perfect, you thought you were going to burst. 

Somehow you made it through an entire hour in that dress without dirtying it up, hugging people and laughing and clinging to Daryl's hand. 

Then the person on watch in the tower at the outer gate boomed out the signal for a herd approaching. 

You and Daryl just looked at each other and started laughing, and he stripped off his vest and tossed it to you, joking about you needing being too tempting a meal with all that skin showing; and you bent and split the skirt of the dress up both legs so you could move better. 

Then you were striding out the gate, knife in one hand and gun in the other, with him and Rick and Merle and Carl and Michonne and Maggie and Glenn and everyone else you loved at your side. 

When you were back in the gate and the herd had been wiped out, you and Daryl turned to each other. You were both covered in walker blood and brains and guts, and that beautiful dress was a tattered, ruined mess; and he pulled you in to kiss you again while everyone cheered around you. 

And it was still perfect.


	63. Epilogue

The next morning, you leaned against the tower railing, watching Rick with his plants and his pigs, and you heard the door open behind you. 

Daryl's arm snaked around you and you pushed off the railing to lean on him instead. He kissed the top of your head and rubbed his fingers over your arm possessively. 

"Mornin', Dixon," you said with a smile, and he squeezed you tighter and set his chin on your shoulder. 

"Good mornin', Dixon," he rumbled in you ear. 

You smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god; I made it to the end. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for all your kudos and comments; they kept me going as this story poured itself out! 
> 
> I'm declaring this one over, but there's so much more material to work with that who knows? It may not be the last of the reader and Daryl. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading; I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it!


End file.
